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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27831895">klancemas 2020</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/renyoi/pseuds/renyoi'>renyoi</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Voltron: Legendary Defender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Klancemas 2020, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 19:49:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>38,668</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27831895</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/renyoi/pseuds/renyoi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>all of my klancemas works!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Keith/Lance (Voltron)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>91</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. coffee shop</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this is the intro to a fic my girlfriend wants me to write, so let's hope i finish it someday lol!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Keith looks up from his phone and blinks, realizing a little too late that the person in front of him is gone and he’s just been left standing two feet away from the counter for absolutely no reason. A little embarrassed, he shucks his bag higher up on his right shoulder and steps forward, glancing down at his pocket as he reaches for his wallet.</p>
<p>“I was just gonna wait and see how long it took you to notice,” says the barista cheekily, and Keith experiences a sharp moment of irritation before he looks up and, <em>wow</em>, every thought he had flies from his head.</p>
<p>Looking back at him is—well, a <em>gorgeous </em>boy, sun-kissed brown skin, long body, lean muscles, smiling a dimpled, freckled grin <em>right at Keith</em>, blue eyes shining and hair wisping perfectly into his forehead.</p>
<p><em>Swoon. </em>Keith colors red and drops his wallet.</p>
<p>“<em>Woah, </em>hey there!” the hot barista boy says, leaning over the counter in a flash and catching Keith’s wallet before it hits the ground. He offers it to Keith then, laughing a little, and Keith takes it in a daze, about ready to fall over at how pretty and charming this guy is.</p>
<p>“Nice reflexes,” he gets out, and then flushes further at how high his voice sounds and how weird and <em>lame </em>that comment was. The barista boy looks pleased, though.</p>
<p>“I try!” he says graciously, winking at Keith, who feels another heart-shaped arrow strike his chest. “My great reflexes aside, though, welcome to Lava Java! What can I get started for you today?”</p>
<p>Keith feels dread enter his stomach, because his heart is fluttering even when this guy is just giving his <em>customer service script</em>, but god, the way it comes out of those perfect lips makes him feel warm in all the right ways. He <em>is </em>on a time limit, though, and he figures it would be a little awkward if he just stood there and stared at the boy for the next twenty minutes, so he tries to calm his beating heart and says, “Um, just—just a caramel macchiato. Medium.”</p>
<p>“You mean a <em>grande</em>?” the barista jokes, giving Keith a half-smile as he grabs a cup a scrawls a few letters onto it. He pauses, then, and looks Keith up and down. “Alright, what’s the name for this, pretty boy?”</p>
<p>Keith’s mouth falls open—did, did he just get called <em>pretty boy</em>?! By the prettiest boy he’s met in <em>years</em>?!? “I—I—”</p>
<p>“Aw, you’re kinda cute.” The barista’s cheeks turn a little pink as he says this, but Keith is too busy internally panicking to truly notice that. Pretty boy? <em>PRETTY BOY?! </em>“The name’s Lance, by the way.”</p>
<p>“Lance?” Keith repeats, pushed out of his shock and embarrassment by the acquisition of new information. “That’s—That’s a cool name.”</p>
<p>The barista laughs. Keith needs to speed up this interaction, or he’s going to die of talked-to-hot-boy disease. Or something.</p>
<p>There’s silence, with the barista—<em>Lance</em>—staring at him expectantly, pen poised on the cup. Keith realizes he’s waiting for his name. “Oh! S-Sorry, uh—Keith. Keith Kogane.”</p>
<p>“Keith Kogane?” Lance asks, sounding amused. Keith must be the color of a tomato by now.</p>
<p>“…Just Keith. You don’t have to write Kogane.”</p>
<p>Giggling, Lance mock-salutes Keith, but he pauses briefly before he writes the name, and then hurriedly scrawls something before pushing the cup away. “That’ll be out for you soon, Keith! Thanks for stopping in, I hope I’ll see more of you down the line.”</p>
<p>“You will,” Keith says, and then leaves Lance’s vicinity. He gets to the other end of the counter and puts his head in his hands.</p>
<p>
  <em>Fuck!</em>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>Around five minutes later, Keith answers the call of “caramel macchiato!” and walks out of Lava Java, scrolling through his phone and sipping his drink, mind already turning back to the day of classes ahead of him. He’s got that stupid group project he has to meet with people for for his media criticism class, <em>ugh</em>, but then he has geology and they’re learning about marble today which is <em>so exciting</em>, like, why is marble so prevalent in suburban white homes? What makes marble? Why has marble become this bona-fide status symbol in your kitchen, when it could just as easily be converted to more practical uses, like mortar and pestle, though those already do exist <em>but not as much as they should</em>, so—</p>
<p>Wait.</p>
<p>Keith’s train of thought comes slamming to a halt as his eyes catch sight of the inked name on his cup. He sees the letter <em>M</em> first, and, wondering how someone could mishear the name <em>Keith </em>with an <em>M</em>, turns it over to try to read the rest.</p>
<p>…<em>Mullet Man. </em></p>
<p>Mullet Man. That’s what’s written there in sharpie. <em>Mullet. Man. </em></p>
<p>Forgetting his impending classes, Keith lets his anger and annoyance guide him as he spins around and marches purposefully back to the coffee shop, because <em>mullet man?! </em>That’s so disrespectful! His hair isn’t even a <em>mullet</em>, it’s just long! Why’d this guy think he had the right to <em>mock a stranger’s haircut on his drink?! </em></p>
<p><em>So much for the cute barista boy, </em>Keith thinks murderously, opening the coffee shop door with a <em>clang </em>and stomping up to Lance. He cuts in front of the person currently being talked to and slams his cup down angrily.</p>
<p>Lance meets him with wary surprise.</p>
<p>“What the hell, dude?!” Keith snaps, pointing at the cup. Lance’s surprise turns to dread. “Why would you write <em>that </em>on my cup?”</p>
<p>Raising his hands in self-defense, Lance sputters, “I—Well! We were talking, and I thought you might like it, you know, if I—”</p>
<p>“What makes you think I would like that?” Keith folds his arms and glares, <em>hard</em>, at Lance, who is rapidly transforming from surprise to anger himself.</p>
<p>“I don’t know!” he says, throwing his arms up in irritation. “But it’s not worth this reaction!”</p>
<p>“<em>Don’t tell me to calm down—” </em></p>
<p>“Hey, hey, what’s going on here?”</p>
<p>Both boys turn to the right and watch as a beautiful woman with white hair, black skin, and an authoritative air appears from the back door, wearing an apron and frowning. Keith’s never seen her before, but he finds himself straightening up and not meeting her eyes even so. Lance still looks annoyed, though.</p>
<p>“<em>He </em>came in here trying to fight me!” Lance replies scathingly, jabbing a finger towards Keith. Resisting the urge to bite it, Keith whips his head up and barks, “I did <em>not! </em>Look what he wrote on my cup!”</p>
<p>The woman makes her way to Lance’s side and, with raised brows, leans down to look at the cup Keith is showing her. Her eyes morph from surprise to pity to exasperation as she reads, and with a shake of her head, she grabs the cup and, tossing it in the trash, turns toward Keith.</p>
<p>“Sorry about that. He gets excited at times,” she says kindly, grabbing Lance’s arm with her hand. He gazes at her, open-mouthed.</p>
<p>“<em>Allura!</em>” he begins incredulously. “He—”</p>
<p>“I’ll get you a new drink,” the woman—Allura, apparently—offers, picking up a cup and uncapping a pen. “What was the order?”</p>
<p>Feeling a little smug, Keith replies, “Caramel macchiato. Name is <em>Keith.</em>”</p>
<p>Allura writes down the information in broad, loopy letters, and then nods before turning and quickly making the drink, leaving Keith and Lance to give un-subtle death glares at each other. Upon her return, she offers the cup with a sympathetic smile and says, “My apologies, once again. It won’t happen again.”</p>
<p>“Thank you,” Keith says, throwing a smirk Lance’s direction. He colors red. “I appreciate it.”</p>
<p>“Not a problem at all,” Allura says graciously, gaze flitting to the sulking Lance and then back to Keith. “I hope we’ll still see you again?”</p>
<p>Keith shrugs. “I live upstairs, so you probably will.”</p>
<p>“Oh, do you?” Allura asks, brightening up. Lance’s mouth forms an O, which Keith guesses isn’t exactly positive. “Welcome! Did you just move in? Are you a student?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, to both,” Keith says, now feeling a little awkward about all the questions. He truly just wanted to give this <em>Lance </em>a piece of his mind, and though Allura’s appearance was originally beneficial, he thinks that now it’s just causing him problems. “Speaking of that—I’m, uh, about to be late for my first class, so I’ll just…go.”</p>
<p>As Keith starts backing away, Allura says, “Oh—Alright! Well, thank you for visiting! We look forward to your return!” And then, after a few seconds of silence, she elbows Lance, who mutters, “Thanks. And sorry.”</p>
<p>Satisfied, Keith nods at the both of them and dips out, checking the name written on the cup first thing. It says <em>Keith, </em>very neatly and in black, and when Keith takes a sip, it’s as good as the last one was.</p>
<p>Thank god. Hopefully, Lance doesn’t work that often.</p>
<hr/>
<p>“I don’t understand why you didn’t have my back there,” Lance complains moodily as he wipes crumbs from the counter, active customers having already left. Allura’s working next to him, doing dishes, and she rolls her eyes.</p>
<p>“You can’t just write your number on everyone’s cups, Lance,” she reprimands gently, giving him a meaningful look. “He might not even like men.”</p>
<p>“We were flirting!” Lance bursts out, annoyed. Allura shakes her head—she doesn’t believe him. “We <em>were. </em>He told me I had nice reflexes! And he blushed when I called him pretty. That’s gay!”</p>
<p>Snickering, Allura finishes up the last dish and lays a gentle hand on Lance’s shoulder, which sags at her touch. “I thought he was into it,” he murmurs, eyes cast downward. Allura squeezes his shoulder.</p>
<p>“If that was his reaction to your number, he didn’t deserve you, anyway,” she says encouragingly. Then she adds, “Though calling him ‘mullet man’ likely didn’t soften him up to you that much, either.”</p>
<p>“Oh my god, that was a <em>joke</em>,” Lance says, feeling defensive over his failure. “He was supposed to see the number and think that it was, like, cute or whatever!”</p>
<p>“I know, I know.” Allura hums a little, rearranging things that were perfectly fine earlier just to give herself something to do. “Well, I can buy you some ice cream on our way home and we can hope he’s not around often, okay?”</p>
<p>“Yes, please,” Lance says in a small voice, sighing heavily.</p>
<p>Why did their store have to get stuck with <em>that guy </em>living above them?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. snowed in</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>keith &amp; lance get snowed in!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“God—Okay, okay, fine. Just let me know what’s going on.”</p>
<p>Lance waits another moment and then angrily taps the “end call” button before throwing his phone onto the couch and turning, annoyed, back to Keith. Keith guesses the call with Allura had gone about as well as his own call to Shiro had moments earlier.</p>
<p>“Tough luck, mullet,” Lance says, which irritates Keith even more. “Nobody can make it. Snow’s too thick, roads too icy. And from the looks of it—” he cranes his neck around to the nearest window, where snow is already piled several feet above the ground, “—not only are they snowed out, but we’re snowed <em>in.</em>”</p>
<p>“Jesus <em>christ</em>,” Keith groans, screwing his face up in displeasure. “So it’s just us. Stuck in this empty house for who knows how long. <em>Great.</em>”</p>
<p>“Merry Christmas,” Lance responds mockingly as he throws himself onto the couch. Keith, suddenly tired, drops down next to him and starts to massage his temples.</p>
<p>It’s going to be a long, long, <em>long </em>night, isn’t it?</p>
<p>“Look,” Keith starts, turning abruptly to face Lance, who meets him with a quizzical glare, “I can stay in one room of the house, and you can stay in another, and we’ll be far, far away from each other. Very. <em>Far. Away.” </em></p>
<p>“I’m getting déjà vu,” Lance says tiredly, but he’s already getting up. “But, fine. I’m going to Shiro and Adam’s room. They have a big TV in there.”</p>
<p>“There’s a big TV out here,” Keith calls instinctively, though it’s not like he wants Lance to <em>stay </em>out here, or anything. He’s the one who suggested they separate, after all.</p>
<p>All Lance does is turn his back and wave before disappearing into the hallway, and shortly thereafter Keith hears the small <em>click </em>of the door shutting. He sighs, slumping down into the couch. This was supposed to be a fun Christmas gathering for <em>all </em>of them, with shitty movies and hot chocolate, but now Keith’s just sitting alone in the dark of the living room, having just lost the only company he had.</p>
<p><em>It’s for the better, anyway</em>, he thinks only a little ruefully, reaching for the remote. It’s not like he and Lance would have done anything but try to kill each other if they had stayed together.</p><hr/>
<p>“This <em>sucks</em>,” Lance moans, jabbing the remote with his fingers. Keith rushes to break it out of his hands, and then bonks him on the head with it.</p>
<p>“Calm <em>down</em>,” he huffs. So, the TVs aren’t working; nothing’s loading, none of the channels on cable or apps like Netflix or YouTube. The signal is utterly <em>dead</em>, which Keith really should have thought about before they decided to part ways; if he’d known that there would be absolutely no other form of entertainment—because their cellphones too had become completely useless in the ten minutes they’d been apart—he’d have made Lance stick around. That was happening anyway, though; Lance had burst out of the room rather quickly, angrily bemoaning the loss of the signal. Keith, who’d been trying to tinker with the television in <em>his </em>vicinity, suddenly understood that maybe it wasn’t the individual technology that was broken, but the howling, freezing, snow weather outside.</p>
<p>Yeah. He’d felt kind of dumb for not realizing sooner.</p>
<p>Now, though, he’s got a very frustrated, very <em>bored </em>Lance McClain to deal with, which isn’t helping to improve his mood at all.</p>
<p>“We’re not going to get a signal back,” Keith concludes, moving the remote far away from Lance’s grabby, angry hands. Lance groans loudly. “We’re just going to have to entertain ourselves.”</p>
<p>“I can’t <em>do that</em>, Keith!” Lance wails. “I can barely sit <em>still, </em>let alone find something to do by myself! Why can’t you be more entertaining?”</p>
<p>“I’m perfectly entertaining!” Keith defends involuntarily, and then wonders why he’s trying to salvage a status that’s going to make him Lance’s personal jester for the night. “I mean—I <em>can </em>be entertaining, I just don’t want to be entertaining to <em>you</em>.”</p>
<p>“Well, I don’t want to be entertaining to you either!” Lance snaps back righteously. Keith glares.</p>
<p>“I’m not asking you to be!”</p>
<p>“Oh my <em>god</em>!” Lance buries his head in his hands, and Keith gives god a long-suffering look. “This is awful. Why couldn’t I have gotten stuck with someone who isn’t <em>you</em>? Anyone! I don’t even know Adam that well but I’d rather have him, at least me and him could joke about Shiro or something. Hunk would be the best choice, of course, but he gets claustrophobic so I don’t really want him being stuck in a snowed-in house but <em>still</em>—”</p>
<p>“You are <em>so annoying!” </em>Keith barks, and his tone must be sharp enough, because Lance actually quiets down a little. “I don’t like this any more than you do, but we’re <em>here</em>, and unless you want to go back to Shiro’s room and huddle in the dark with only a pillow for company, we’re stuck <em>together</em>. If you stop complaining, things’ll go more smoothly!”</p>
<p>Lance just stares at Keith for a moment, trying to gauge the seriousness of his words. He seems to understand that Keith is being genuine, though, because he deflates a moment later and sighs. “Yeah. Fine. Whatever.”</p>
<p>“<em>Thank </em>you,” Keith says wearily, sitting himself down next to Lance and leaning back against the couch they’re both on. What if he just went to sleep? Just slept this nightmare situation away, and maybe when he wakes up everyone else will be here, saving him from the hell that is dealing with a bored Lance McClain on a snowy, cold night.</p>
<p>Keith’s just about to close his eyes and attempt to act on that thought when Lance, suddenly leaning in close to him and grinning, says, “Let’s play a game.”</p>
<p>Allowing himself a long blink in substitute for his failed effort at sleeping, Keith raises his eyebrows. “What…kind of game?”</p>
<p>Lance hums a little, acting like he’s thinking, which Keith isn’t buying at all. He can tell that Lance already has an idea in mind. “Gay chicken?”</p>
<p>Keith’s mouth drops open. “That’s homophobic.”</p>
<p>“It’s not <em>homophobic</em>!” Lance looks scandalized. “At least not when, like, two gay guys are playing it!”</p>
<p>“You’re not gay,” Keith points out, feeling panic rise in his chest. “You’re, like, <em>mostly </em>straight.”</p>
<p>“That is uncalled for,” Lance huffs with a shake of his head. “And biphobic, probably.”</p>
<p>“Why do you want to play gay chicken with <em>me</em>?” Keith changes the subject, still kind of hoping this is all an elaborate joke. All Lance does is shrug, though.</p>
<p>“Sounds fun.” He leans in even closer, so his face is mere inches away from Keith’s face. Keith’s adrenaline levels spike higher. “Why? You <em>scared</em>?”</p>
<p>“<em>I’m not SCARED</em>!” Keith snaps, surging forward and pressing his nose up against Lance’s in anger. “I just—You’re not making any sense!”</p>
<p>Rolling his eyes, Lance heaves a dramatic sigh and falls away from Keith’s face, causing Keith to let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. “Fine, you don’t wanna play it, whatever. Just thought it would make things less <em>boring</em>.”</p>
<p>Keith squirms a little in his seat, feeling suddenly like he’s lost something. It’s not that he doesn’t <em>want </em>to play, though; far from it—Lance is a hot boy, and he’s charming, and a little addictive, and Keith’s slowly coming to terms with the fact that there are <em>maybe </em>some more complicated feelings involved in his relationship with Lance than there were before. Is he being dumb by not taking this opportunity to possibly indulge in something he’s been wanting to explore for a long time? Especially if <em>Lance </em>is the one asking for it?</p>
<p>“Fine,” he says suddenly. Lance’s head snaps back up, and he grins. “As much as I <em>hate </em>touching you, it sounds like a challenge, so I’m in.”</p>
<p>“Alright, Kogane!” Lance cheers, turning his body so he’s squarely facing Keith. Keith swallows thickly and does the same. The snow is still piling up outside, bringing a chill into the room. Lance’s eyes sparkle. “Be my guest.”</p>
<p><em>Already?! </em>Keith screams in his mind, feeling all at once that this was a very, very bad decision indeed. He <em>still </em>thinks it’s kind of homophobic, anyway, but they’re doing it and Keith can’t back out now or Lance will never let him hear the end of it. So, taking a deep breath, he nods and slams his hand on Lance’s knee.</p>
<p>He’s blushing. Lance bursts into laughter.</p>
<p>“Can you <em>be </em>any less sexy?” he says in between giggles, and Keith gets so frustrated that in a flash of instinct he slides his hand up higher, onto Lance’s thigh. That shuts him up.</p>
<p>“H-Hey, no fair,” he starts, voice sounding weaker, though he’s still trying for laughter. Keith feels very, <em>very </em>satisfied, until he remembers that his <em>hand </em>is on Lance’s <em>thigh</em>, which shouldn’t really be a big thing because he’s got his own glove <em>and </em>Lance’s jeans keeping two layers between their skin touching, but it’s still his thigh and that’s a <em>lot</em>, what if he’s being too forward— “You can’t take two turns at once. Now I get a double turn, too.”</p>
<p>Relieved that Lance isn’t enraged at him, Keith nods mutely and waits for Lance to touch him. He moves his hand forward uncertainly and rests it on Keith’s shoulder, and then slides it up to his neck, slowly and gently. Keith swallows, and Lance’s thumb strokes his throat when he does.</p>
<p>At Lance’s tiny nod, Keith rolls his hand farther upward still, gripping at Lance’s hip instead, now, and tentatively thumbing underneath the waistband fabric ever so slightly, dipping just enough so that it could seem like an accident.</p>
<p>Lance huffs out a small, breathless laugh. “Bold, Kogane,” he says, eyeing Keith’s hand meaningfully. Keith doesn’t really know how to reply to that, but Lance doesn’t really give him time to either; within seconds of speaking, he moves his hand underneath Keith’s chin, lifting it up lightly and forcing Keith to meet his eyes.</p>
<p>Keith feels sparks of electricity ignite through them, and he licks his lips, noticing when Lance’s eyes catch and hold on the motion. <em>Oh. </em></p>
<p>“It’s kind of cold in here,” Lance says, trying and failing to sound casual. Keith has to laugh a little at the way he says it.</p>
<p>“How far do you wanna take this game?” he ventures carefully, hoping that its framed <em>just enough </em>like a joking inquiry that, if Lance doesn’t want anything else, they can brush it off as goading bravado. The way Lance’s face lights up, though, tells Keith that he accepts the true meaning behind it.</p>
<p>“Depends on how far you wanna go, pretty boy,” he breathes, leaning in close again. Keith swallows. “You’ve already almost got your hand down my pants, so…”</p>
<p>“I do <em>not</em>,” Keith says immediately, and then sticks his hand entirely into Lance’s jeans, causing him to rear back and squeak. “Now I do, asshole.”</p>
<p>Eyes wide and staring, Lance nods slowly, offering a very unsure smile. “N-Now you do, yeah.”</p>
<p>They just look at each other for a while, Keith’s hand down Lance’s pants and Lance’s still cupping Keith’s chin, howling snow surrounding them and a brittle chill in the air. Then Lance opens his mouth.</p>
<p>“Can we—?”</p>
<p>“<em>Yes.</em>”</p>
<p>Their lips connect.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hehehehe part 2 will probably come on the 12th for the prompt “cuddling for warmth” 👀 it’s likely gonna be nsfw LOL so look forward to that!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. ice skating</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>lance is really good at ice skating. keith is enamored.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The atmosphere around Keith reeks of semi-soured cologne, fake spices, and anxious people; he’s surrounded by coats and fluffy hats bustling about, shopping bags smacking into him as he stands at the edge of the indoor-rink, clutching roller skates and gazing, absolutely spellbound, at the figure looping around the massive Christmas tree, grinning wide and skating like he’s flying.</p>
<p>Keith is having the time of his <em>life</em>.</p>
<p>He can’t take his eyes off of Lance long enough to actually lace up his skates and get in the rink, but he’d honestly rather be watching than skating right now, because Lance is <em>fantastic. </em>Despite the crowded mall, despite the couplets of children and parents wobbling around him, Lance is skating circles around the rink, propping the heels of his skates and jumping up briefly, twirling and landing perfectly amidst a flurry of admiring cheers and claps. His long, lanky body is an advantage here; he looks graceful, like a swan, and it works exceptionally well when he lifts a leg and stretches it out behind him, skating cheekily on one foot and winking at Keith when he passes by.</p>
<p>“You ever gonna join me?” he calls, throwing a truly <em>stunning </em>smirk Keith’s way, and Keith staggers back (metaphorically, of course) and puts a hand to his heart, which is beating fastfast<em>fast. </em></p>
<p>Who said Lance was allowed to be so <em>good </em>at skating? And why does he have to look so damn <em>hot </em>while he’s doing it?</p>
<p>Lance is far off on the other side of the rink, now, showing off and doing jumps for some nearby kids, so Keith doesn’t bother to respond, but what he’s thinking is just—</p>
<p>
  <em>If I join, I’ll ruin how pretty you look. </em>
</p>
<p>He’s speeding up, now, leaving the kids behind and catapulting himself forward, skidding across the turns of the circular rink and seemingly floating around the bright Christmas tree. Backwards—he’s skating <em>backwards </em>now, easy and casual, like it’s the most normal thing in the world to be able to coordinate your feet and body like that, your feet that are using literal <em>knives </em>to be able to move on the ice, <em>how is he so good?!</em></p>
<p>Keith gets so lost in his own flushed, frantic thoughts that he doesn’t notice Lance is right in front of him until he taps his nose, and then he blinks.</p>
<p>“You alive in there?” Lance asks, cheeks red from the cold and the adrenaline. Keith’s chest gives a painful twinge.</p>
<p>“Y-Yeah,” he gets out, and then clears his throat, trying to get the embarrassment out. “I’m fine. Really fine.”</p>
<p>“Mmm, yeah you are,” Lance says, raising his eyebrows and dropping his voice low in that ridiculous way he does when he flirts. That ridiculous way that never fails to make Keith’s stomach erupt in butterflies and his cheeks dust pink. “<em>However</em>, I didn’t come here to be alone! Skate with me.”</p>
<p>Keith makes a show of rolling his eyes. “I <em>will, </em>just—just, not right now. I’m doing something.”</p>
<p>“What are you…doing?” Lance asks, raising an eyebrow only a little teasingly. Keith swallows.</p>
<p>“I mean—I’m just, just…watching you. You’re really good.”</p>
<p>“Oh—” Lance turns bright red, which is particularly extraordinary given the brown color of his skin. He looks down at the ground, laughs a little, and then meets Keith’s eyes, bright and happy looking. “W-Well, uh, okay. You can—You can keep doing that, I guess.”</p>
<p>“Thank you,” Keith returns mockingly, leaning forward just slightly and giving Lance a short smile. That cute, flustered reaction is really doing things to Keith’s confidence levels. “You look really good out there. I can’t believe you’re so talented.”</p>
<p>“Ooooooo<em>kay!” </em>Lance says loudly, pulling hastily away from Keith and trying to hide his face. “Keith’s complimenting me now. I can’t take this.”</p>
<p>“Oh, shut up,” Keith laughs, gazing at Lance fondly. Lance takes one look back at him, sees that expression, and then turns rapidly around again with a loud groan.</p>
<p>“I can’t take you like this. <em>Goodbye.</em>”</p>
<p>“See you, pretty boy,” Keith calls after him, emboldened, and then watches as Lance skates away, a little less focused and a lot more adorable.</p>
<p>Leaning against the railing, Keith thinks that maybe it’s okay if he never gets in the rink; he’d rather sit and watch Lance shine over anything in the world.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. wish list</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>keith and lance look at each others' childhood christmas lists!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>“A <em>Wii</em>?!” Keith snorts, pointing mockingly down at the crumpled, torn piece of paper in front of him. “You really put a <em>Wii </em>on your Christmas list?”</p>
<p>“It was, like, 2010!” Lance defends, but he’s grinning bright and wide. “Everyone wanted a Wii. It had the coolest family games.”</p>
<p>Keith shakes his head. “<em>I </em>didn’t want a Wii. Look—not even a game console on my list!”</p>
<p>Lance consults the second piece of paper in front of them, yellowed and softened with age. He narrows his eyes, trying to read the childish, scrawled handwriting on it. Suddenly, he pulls his head back up and shoves the paper in Keith’s face, grinning madly. “That says ‘<em>Nintendo DS’ </em>right there, Keith! Look—” Lance brings the paper closer to his eyes again. “You even wrote what color you wanted it! Red!”</p>
<p>“The DS doesn’t <em>count</em>,” Keith says with the air of someone who knows a lot about something that they definitely don’t actually know a lot about. “It’s, like, <em>portable. </em>That makes it different from a home console.”</p>
<p>“You’re so pretentious.” Lance shakes his head, then drops a kiss onto Keith’s cheek, causing him to roll his eyes. “What else did you want…?”</p>
<p>Keith looks on fondly as Lance continues to scan his ten-year-old Christmas wish list, from back when his dad was still alive and he had someone to write a wish list for. In fairness, Lance had given him his own as well, which is exceptionally entertaining given child-Lance’s apparent tendency to pick the weirdest shit to put on his list right next to the most generic shit; the item sitting below the Wii, for example, is a Sky Dancer—the little doll-things that, when a string is pulled at their base, launch into the sky and “fly” down. Keith would hazard to guess that Lance didn’t get that one, because he can only imagine the hell a hyperactive-child-Lance with a <em>flying toy </em>could raise.</p>
<p>If he’s being honest, Keith’s list isn’t much better, though. He’s pretty sure a motorcycle is written on there somewhere, but he’s not going to point it out until Lance finds it for himself.</p>
<p>“How were you so edgy even as a ten-year-old?” Lance bemoans, shooting Keith an amused look. “’Black and red heelys.’” Lance quirks an eyebrow at Keith. “<em>Heelys</em>?!”</p>
<p>“They’re cool, shut up! I never got them, anyway,” Keith says, sounding disappointed. Lance chuckles, leaning back against Keith’s side.</p>
<p>“I know what I’m getting you for Christmas, then.”</p>
<p>“I’m gonna get you a blue iDog.”</p>
<p>“Hey, I’d actually love that,” Lance points out. He nuzzles into Keith then, giving him a lazy, content smile. Keith can’t help but smile back. This—just sitting here, curled up on a plush couch looking through their childhood Christmas lists—makes Keith so utterly, ridiculously happy that he feels like it’s not allowed. But the best part is that it <em>is</em>, he is allowed to enjoy little moments like this, to look back on his childhood with some fondness instead of complete trauma. He credits a lot of that to Lance; he’s the one who urged them to get their old Christmas lists, and he’s the one working hard to keep things light right now. Keith will be forever grateful.</p>
<p>“I love you,” Keith says abruptly, craning his neck to look around and at Lance, who startles a bit but then pushes happily into him again.</p>
<p>“I love you too, cheesy,” he replies, and then reaches around to grab Keith’s hand, caressing it slightly. “And I love seeing your lame childhood wants.”</p>
<p>“As if yours are any better,” Keith retorts. Nestling back against Lance, though, he has to admit: if he were to make a Christmas list today, there’d probably only be one thing on it. And it’s no surprise what that might be.</p>
<p>“Aww, babe, you wanted Yu-Gi-Oh cards? <em>Embarrassing</em>.”</p>
<p>Yeah, no surprise at all.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. sleep</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>they sleep over for the first time</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>another prompt from mine and my gf's 100-page google doc of kl fanfic/thoughts, lol. i wasn't convinced that i was the one who wrote this, but my gf assures me i am, so here u go :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They’re just sitting in Lance’s room, staring at different things together (a pastime that was becoming more and more frequent as they grew comfortable with the silence), when the thought crosses Lance’s mind. They’d only been dating, what, a week? Regardless, he can’t help it when his body and mind are simultaneously struck with boldness.</p><p>“Do you wanna stay the night?” he asks, words a little quiet. The nervousness was still there, making him almost shy, but not enough to shut up for just a few seconds. Keith’s eyes, previously stuck to his DS, snap to attention with his head quickly following.</p><p>“Huh?” he answers, eloquent as ever. Lance smiles softly, heart weirdly surged with affection at Keith’s expression. His eyebrows are knitted in confusion, lips slightly parted, eyes struggling slightly to focus on Lance after having been glazed over from staring at Animal Crossing for two and a half hours.</p><p>“Do...you...wanna...stay...the...night?” Lance repeats, teasing grin dancing on his lips. Keith’s eyes narrow with annoyance.</p><p>“I know what you said, I just...I don’t know! I’ve never stayed over before, I don’t really know how to react to that!” he answers, exasperated. “No offense, but like...why?”</p><p>Lance’s eyes roll lazily as he flops backwards onto his bed, narrowly missing slamming his head against the wall. Oops.</p><p>“I want to cuddle you. Is that cool?” he answers bluntly, raising a daring eyebrow in Keith’s direction. Keith’s expression drops into deadpan annoyance.</p><p>“I don’t cuddle.”</p><p>“Fine. I want to lay next to you and wrap my arm around your waist and hold you close to me as we fall asleep next to each other. Better?”</p><p>“...I guess that’s fine,” Keith agrees reluctantly, voice hesitant. Lance’s grin is now beaming as they quickly hash out arrangements for brushing teeth and Lance’s 30 minute nighttime skin routine.</p><p>Exactly 40 minutes later, Lance is laying in bed, and his mind is racing. Will Keith actually be comfortable sleeping next to him? Oh god, they’re going to be touching all night. Will Lance be able to handle this level of touch thrown at him so suddenly? His heart is beating fast as he watches Keith, now dressed only in boxers and one of Lance’s too-big pajama shirts, climb into <em>his bed</em>.</p><p><em>His </em>bed. The bed he sleeps in every night. The bed he lays in, dreams in, wakes up in the middle of the night from dreams where thoughts of Keith leave him gasping. The bed he silently touches himself in, wishing that Keith’s hand were there instead, with thoughts that plague him of pale skin, leather gloves, and a stupid black mullet.</p><p>And Keith just crawled into it.</p><p>His skin is buzzing like ice has been poured into his veins, but he forces himself to ignore the heart-pounding feeling and just act <em>normal.</em> Normal, he thinks, laying down next to Keith under too-hot covers. <em>Normal</em>, he reminds himself as he sidles close to Keith, their skin coming into explosive contact that leaves a hot blush on Lance’s cheeks. The lights are off, but the TV blares on in the background, the infomercial for a MyPillow casting a blue light over everything. Keith doesn’t even seem phased, and Lance is infuriated by it, though unsurprised. He’s probably thought this through too far, much farther than Keith likely would have, and each moment that for Keith is average is becoming excruciating.</p><p>Finally, he’s laying flush with Keith, skin burning from the contact in a not-unpleasant way. Keith smiles just so slightly in his sleepy state as Lance reaches over to turn off the TV, letting the total darkness envelop them fully. It’s silent, suddenly, and the air is heavy with some buzzing feeling that’s hard to pinpoint.</p><p>“G’night, Lance,” Keith mumbles softly, turning onto his side gently. Some of the tension in Lance’s heart is pierced and bleeds out by the softness of it.</p><p>“Night, Keith,” he manages, turning onto the same side under the covers and ever so gently resting his hand on Keith’s hip. He feels the muscles underneath his light grip tense, and finds some odd satisfaction in knowing that Keith’s calm is likely to be an act. But the facade is quickly recovered as Keith grabs Lance’s hand and pulls it around his own waist, cutting through the space between their bodies in a single motion as they crash gently into each other.</p><p>Lance pulls himself closer, nervous and excited. He feels Keith relax against him, which feels both like a victory and panic-inducing, but Lance keeps himself calm, smiling a little against Keith’s back and tightening his circling arms.  </p><p>Man, Keith is warm. Lance just knows that, come morning, it’s going to be torturous to tear himself away from this position. He’ll just have to savor it as long as he can.</p><p>And maybe, if he’s lucky, this’ll be the start of more and more nights like this. He can only hope. But, judging by the easy breathing Keith has adopted and the relaxed tension of his body, Lance is pretty optimistic that this won’t be the last time. With that thought in mind, he allows himself to drift off to sleep, thinking of gloved hands and pale skin and the scent of pine. </p><p>Perfect.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. hot chocolate</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>lance teaches keith how to make <i>proper</i> hot chocolate</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Keith leans against the kitchen counter, watching fondly as Lance busies himself with preparing the ingredients, shaking his head the entire time and muttering about how “unbelievable” it is that Keith “doesn’t know how to make <em>real </em>hot chocolate.” Keith is getting free hot chocolate out of this, though, so he can’t really complain; he barely even has to work for it, able to just watch his boyfriend be pretty and domestic and silly while he heats milk in a saucepan.</p>
<p>“See?” Lance says, turning to Keith and pointing at the saucepan. “<em>Milk</em>, not water. And no microwave.”</p>
<p>Keith puts his hands up in defense, trying not to smile. “Yeah, I see! This seems like a ridiculous amount of work to go through for a cup of hot chocolate, though.”</p>
<p>“It is <em>not!</em>” Lance responds righteously, shaking a spoon Keith’s way. “When you taste it, you’ll see.”</p>
<p>“Mhm, ‘course,” Keith murmurs, and leaves his place on the counter and sidles up behind Lance, wrapping his arms around him and resting his head in his neck. “Whatever you say.”</p>
<p>The milk starts bubbling furiously, so Lance can only shoot Keith a teasing glare before he reaches over to turn the heat down, letting the milk stay simmering and not boiling. After that, he grabs the box of raw, unsweetened cocoa powder and turns around in Keith’s arms to show it to him.</p>
<p>“No pre-made mix, either,” he says, tapping the box against Keith’s nose. Keith huffs out a laugh.</p>
<p>“That looks just like the pre-made mix,” Keith replies dismissively, enjoying riling Lance up about his homemade hot chocolate. The comment does the trick; Lance’s eyes bulge, and he takes the box away from Keith’s face like he’s going to curse it. His reaction has some intense Hunk energy to it.</p>
<p>“You are never setting foot in this kitchen again,” Lance declares, craning his head sideways as Keith attempts, giggling, to lean in for a kiss. “Nope, <em>no, </em>no kisses for you, you just said cocoa powder is the same as hot chocolate mix. That’s, like, <em>blasphemy.</em> And I know a lot about blasphemy, Kogane, don’t test me.”</p>
<p>“Oh no,” Keith says mockingly, grinning, and he finally succeeds in capturing Lance’s moving lips; he pries Lance’s mouth open with his tongue and pushes in, drawing slow, lazy circles in Lance’s mouth and resting his hands on Lance’s (gorgeous) hips. Lance makes a tiny noise in the back of his throat and drinks Keith in insistently, before suddenly snapping his eyes open and pushing away, looking scandalized as he wipes his mouth with one hand.</p>
<p>“Stop distracting me from your blasphemy!” he cries, glaring. Keith only laughs, but he obediently retreats back to his place on the counter, this time hopping up to sit on it and swing his legs. For a moment, Lance just stares at him blankly, and then he mutters “<em>cute</em>” and turns around in a huff. Keith’s cheeks dust pink.</p>
<p>Watching Lance cook, Keith has found out, is kind of calming; it’s not like Hunk, who is all flurried motion and eager experimentation, it’s much more…<em>methodical </em>is the only word Keith can think of to describe it. Lance operates based on memorized family recipes most of the time, with the rare Hunk-original he’d somehow not forgotten here and there, but the bulk of his cooking repertoire is just things he’d made as a kid, or watched his mom make.</p>
<p>It’s something Keith never had; even when his dad was alive, they subsisted mostly on boxed food and restaurants, though that makes it sound a lot less healthy than it actually was, and Keith will maintain that his dad fed him well even if he hadn’t grasped many of the basics of cooking. So, maybe that’s why watching Lance hum his way through homemade hot chocolate—such a simple recipe for such a simple food that Keith had never bothered to acquaint himself with—is making Keith feel so warm and relaxed. It’s evidence that Lance was cared for, and now, evidence that Keith is being cared for too, because Lance is sharing that with him.</p>
<p>…Or maybe Keith is just cheesy sometimes. That could be it, too.</p>
<p>“Okay, watch closely,” Lance interrupts Keith’s musings, beckoning him closer to the now-milky-brown pan. If Keith were making this, he probably would’ve stopped there; it <em>looks </em>like hot chocolate is supposed to look—creamy and chocolatey and warm—but he’d probably be making a mistake there somehow. So, he just nods and scoots over to Lance on the counter, stopping just before the stovetop and giving the pan and Lance all of his attention.</p>
<p>First, Lance grabs a handful of sugar and drops it into the pan—<em>ohhhh</em>—letting it dissolve before then picking up a handful of chocolate chips—<em>OHHHHHH</em>—and dashing them in as well. They start melting immediately, and Lance begins to stir once again, grinning up at Keith and looking very pleased with himself.</p>
<p>Anime stars in his eyes, Keith raises his hands and begins to clap, which inspires Lance to swoop down in an exaggerated mock-bow.</p>
<p>“Thank you, thank you, I’m here all night,” Lance jokes, looking up at Keith mid-bow with shining eyes. Keith is so impressed with the ingenuity of melting chocolate chips for hot chocolate—who <em>thinks </em>of that?!—that he just <em>has </em>to jump down from the counter and pull Lance into another kiss.</p>
<p>“That is <em>so </em>smart,” he says eagerly once they part. Lance is looking a little bashful, now, bravado dimmed to an embarrassed pleasure that makes Keith’s chest twist and pull like it had when they’d first started dating.</p>
<p>God, he’s in love.</p>
<p>“Thanks,” Lance says, genuinely this time, and turns back to the pan with ears still hued red. Keith watches admiringly as he stirs the hot chocolate once more and it transitions from milk-brown to creamy, thick, and absolutely <em>decadent </em>smelling; Keith has never been so excited to have hot chocolate in his life.</p>
<p>When he deigns it done, Lance turns the stove off and moves the pan aside before rummaging around in one of their drawers and producing a ladle a moment later. The sight of it makes Keith snicker.</p>
<p>“Shut up!” Lance rebukes, bopping Keith in the head with it. Keith sticks his tongue out in turn. “It’s the best way to get it into mugs, <em>look</em>.”</p>
<p>It is, indeed, the best way to get the hot chocolate into mugs, as Lance demonstrates; that doesn’t make it any less funny that he’s using something made for savory soup, though. Once the hot chocolate is safely within the mugs, Lance gets marshmallows, whip cream, and chocolate sprinkles out of the cupboard and fridge, giving them both liberal amounts of each.</p>
<p>“Preferably, we’d make our own whip cream too, but we don’t have the ingredients for that,” Lance admits with a shrug, passing Keith his red mug.</p>
<p>“I’m sure it’s fine,” Keith replies, encircling the mug in his hands and breathing in the warm, sweet smell. <em>Yum. </em>“Can I drink it?”</p>
<p>“Knock yourself out.” Lance makes a <em>go ahead </em>gesture, and with this permission Keith raises the cup to his lips and takes a sip.</p>
<p>The first thing that happens is, of course, Keith’s tongue gets burned, but Keith is not weak, and a burn cannot stop him from tasting his boyfriend’s homemade hot chocolate, so he just keeps going, letting the cold whip cream cool the liquid already in his mouth. Once he gets past the searing heat, the beauty of this creation is immediately clear.</p>
<p>It is <em>absolutely. Fucking. Delicious. </em></p>
<p>“Holy <em>shit</em>,” Keith says, wide-eyed. Lance’s face, which had been watching him with a wary, nervous expression, splits into a triumphant grin.</p>
<p>“Uh huh, uh huh, it’s delicious, isn’t it?” Lance says happily, folding his arms and nodding. “I <em>told </em>you.”</p>
<p>“This is <em>amazing</em>,” Keith says, eyes shining. He takes another sip, and it’s just as good as the first, even if it burns his tongue again; it’s the <em>creaminess</em>, the <em>sweetness</em>, the enveloping scent of chocolate and sugar that warms him from his tongue to his toes, filling him with feelings of soft blankets and lit candles and snowy landscapes. It’s so good that Keith isn’t sure that he’ll be able to live through packaged hot chocolate ever again.</p>
<p>Setting the mug down (just for the <em>moment</em>, of course), Keith steps over to Lance and, looping his hands around his neck, asks innocently, “How should I reward you? You deserve a reward for this.”</p>
<p>Lance laughs, letting his own arms settle on Keith’s hips suggestively. He hums a little, as if thinking, and Keith rolls his eyes. “I can think of a few ways.”</p>
<p>Shaking his head and grinning, Keith leans up to kiss him again, slow and full of promise, allowing his hands to caress Lance’s neck and skate briefly down his body, drawing a shudder from him. When they part, Lance’s eyes are half-closed and lidded, and he immediately leans forward for another kiss, this time pulling Keith’s hips against his own with a tiny noise, but Keith is not having <em>that. </em>So, ducking away from Lance, he hops away and picks up his mug, leaving a confused Lance back near the stove.</p>
<p>“Hey, I’m finishing my hot chocolate first. There’s no way you can top this.”</p>
<p>Lance looks offended, but Keith can tell he’s fighting back a smile. “Keep talking like that and I’m not topping <em>anything</em>!” he retorts, though he swipes his own mug from the counter, smile finally showing through. “But, fine. I guess that’s a compliment.”</p>
<p>“’Course it is,” Keith says, giving Lance a stray kiss as he walks past them into their living room. “You should bask in it.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, yeah.” Lance waves a hand dismissively and sits on the couch, patting the seat next to him. “C’mere.”</p>
<p>Being careful not to spill any of the hot chocolate, Keith joins him, and they turn on some shitty Hallmark Christmas movie to watch while they sip their incredible, delicious, amazing drinks, from and incredible, delicious (uh-huh), <em>amazing </em>cook.</p>
<p>When did Keith get <em>this </em>lucky?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. fireplace</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>keith and lance sit in front of a warm fireplace</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>had a long day...here u go</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lance stretches out contentedly, happy to feel the softness of the fabric of both his blue-plaid pajamas and the snowy white blanket press against his skin, enveloping him in cotton and comfort. He’s keeping his hands outside of the blanket, though, instead keeping them hovering in front of the crackling fire he’s sitting at, warming his body and heart at the same time.</p>
<p>“Move over,” a voice murmurs next to him, and Lance looks up with a smile to his boyfriend, Keith, clutching hot bowls of vegetable soup and nudging him with his foot. Obediently, Lance shifts to the side a little, giving Keith a spot in front of the fire as well.</p>
<p>Keith hands Lance his bowl of soup and then carefully sets his own down before nudging under the blanket into a sitting position; once he’s settled, he picks the soup back up and cradles it, smelling deeply. He looks <em>relaxed</em>, completely and utterly, and that’s such a rarity for Keith Kogane that Lance just <em>has </em>to reach forward and happily tap his nose.</p>
<p>The nose in question scrunches up in response. “What?”</p>
<p>“Nothing.” Lance shrugs. “You’re just cute. I like seeing you without tension.”</p>
<p>Keith rolls his eyes, nudging Lance’s bare foot with his own socked one. Today, he’s chosen the ones with tiny cacti wearing Santa hats and Christmas-light necklaces all over them, in true homage to his Texan-desert roots. Every time Lance sees them, he smiles.</p>
<p>“I’ve never had a fireplace before,” Keith admits after a moment of silence in which they’d been sipping their soup. Lance raises his eyebrows to show he’s listening. “Dad was never rich enough, and fireplaces aren’t <em>super </em>common in Texas—at least, like, outside of the suburban areas—and none of my foster families had one. And of course the Garrison didn’t.”</p>
<p>Shuffling a little under the blankets, Keith leans forward closer to the fire, and Lance has a truly stunning view of Keith’s pale face and jet-black hair reflecting the red-yellow light of the fire, giving him a mysterious, mythic quality that throws Lance in awe.</p>
<p>“In all the movies and stuff, families or couples are always sitting around the fireplace near Christmastime,” Keith continues, giving Lance a spare, sideways glance.  It only lasts a second, though, before he’s ducking his head away, averting his eyes. “It’s nice to finally have that.”</p>
<p>And <em>oh, </em>if that doesn’t pull at Lance’s heartstrings. And his boyfriend strings. And his <em>person </em>strings. He can’t imagine doing anything other than setting his soup aside and, after making sure Keith’s own bowl is securely in his hand, reaching around and gathering his boyfriend in his arms, hugging tightly.</p>
<p>“I didn’t have it often either,” Lance murmurs, stroking Keith’s hair. It’s a testament to how comfortable Keith is around Lance when he accepts the hug immediately, relaxing into it and reciprocating within seconds. Lance continues, “Our fireplace was broken more often than not—it was clearly old and not cared for, even before we moved in, but the times when we turned it on were always great. We used to make s’mores.”</p>
<p>“I’d like that,” Keith says, leaning back slightly to look up at Lance, who laughs.</p>
<p>“We could do that. I think we have all the ingredients.”</p>
<p>Keith’s eyes light up, an emotion emphasized by the literal firelight being reflected into them. “Cool! Where are they?” He’s already getting up, now, and Lance doesn’t have the heart to pull him back down; he’s adorable when he’s excited.</p>
<p>“One minute, one minute, I’ll come help you find it,” he assures him, though Keith is already halfway back to the kitchen. Shaking his head, Lance stretches and slowly stands to join him.</p>
<p>The fire continues flickering warmly in the background, peacefully awaiting their return.  </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. christmas song</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>lance gets keith to go to a karaoke bar</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Keith will maintain that the only reason he agreed to step foot into this place is because it was Japanese. Well, not <em>Japanese </em>Japanese—it’s a karaoke bar, only in the Japanese style, where everyone gets their own private room with TV sets, microphones, surround-sound speakers, plush couches, and alcohol galore—all to themselves.</p>
<p>Well, not <em>all </em>to themselves. Usually there’s at least one other person there. For Keith, that one person is Lance.</p>
<p>The one who dragged him here in the first place, on this chilly December night.</p>
<p>Honestly, Keith would bet that Lance had searched around and found the only Japanese-style karaoke bar in town and chose that one specifically because he knew Keith wouldn’t say no to an opportunity to experience something so commonplace in Japan, where his dad was from. And Keith had proved him right—in more ways than one.</p>
<p>Right now, he’s doubled over in laughter, Santa hat (Lance’s doing) skewed and fruity drink sloshing around in his hand. He doesn’t even remember what it’s called; all of that information left his mind at around the second cup, and by the fourth (fifth?) he knew it would never return. Watching Lance drunkenly sing his way through <em>Toxic </em>by Britney Spears seems like a much better use of his brainpower than remembering the type of alcohol he’s confusing.</p>
<p>Lance does a dramatic zig-zag with his arms as the last notes of the song croon out, somehow embodying exactly what those notes sound like in his movements. Still hiccupping laughter, Keith stands up and starts clapping as Lance takes a bow and hops off from the mini-stage, swaying his way to Keith and grabbing him by the waist, pulling him closer.</p>
<p>“Like the show?” he asks, eyes lidded and grin wide and easy. “I tried to make it sexy for you, Kogane.”</p>
<p>“<em>That </em>was supposed to be sexy?” Keith giggles, raising higher in an attempt to meet Lance’s eyes (<em>oh god, he can’t even focus on them)</em>. He’s learned that Lance gets even <em>more </em>flirty when he’s drunk, which he can’t really complain about, considering he (and only he) is getting the full brunt of it, a spotlight shining on him and dousing him with the light of Lance McClain’s attention, addicting and satisfying. Even if it’s only for tonight. “I think you need sexy lessons or somethin’, then, because that was <em>not </em>sexy.”</p>
<p>With a playful glare, Lance pushes Keith away and then sticks out his tongue, before reaching over and grabbing a second microphone from the rack of them laying just over there.</p>
<p>“Hey,” he starts, holding the microphone out to Keith. “We’ve got another song. C’mon, I picked it <em>just </em>for you.”</p>
<p>“Um, what?”</p>
<p>Lance ignores him, simply whistling once and then wandering faux-innocently back onto the stage. Confused but intrigued, Keith dashes down the rest of his drink (really, how many has he had, anyway?) and joins Lance against his better judgement, folding his arms and waiting.</p>
<p>A second later, it begins.</p>
<p>The tinkling notes, 13 of them at various ranges, and then—</p>
<p>“<em>I~~I~~I don’t want a lot for Christmas—”</em></p>
<p>“<em>Lance!</em>” Keith screams above Lance’s singing, mouth twisting into a grin even as he covers his head with his hands. “Oh my god, <em>anything </em>but this song!”</p>
<p>“<em>There is just one thing I need</em>…”</p>
<p>Lance, smiling like he’s the best person in the world, walks around Keith suggestively, touching his hip and spinning him forward as a sings, brimming with confidence and teasing and everything that makes Keith completely and utterly lovesick.</p>
<p>“<em>I don’t care about the presents,</em>” Lance croons, swooping up close to Keith and taking his hand, “<em>underneath the Christmas tree!</em>”</p>
<p>“You’re ridiculous,” Keith says, feeling very hot. “And a bad singer. And I hate you.”</p>
<p>“<em>I just want you for my own.” </em>Oh, Keith cannot handle Lance singing these lines <em>at </em>him, singing these lines at <em>him. </em>“<em>More than you could ever know…” </em></p>
<p>Lance drops to one knee, throwing his arms out exaggeratedly and then clasping his hands together as if he’s begging. “<em>Make my wish come true~? All I want for Christmas….is….” </em></p>
<p>And then he jumps up, literally grabs Keith and spins him around before dipping him, and <em>wow, </em>Keith is drunk and dizzy and his crush just <em>dipped him while serenading Mariah Carey ‘All I Want for Christmas is You’, </em>holy <em>shit—</em></p>
<p><em>“Youuuuuuuuuu~~!</em>” Lance sings, miraculously still holding their position, and Keith can only gape, wondering how the hell he managed to do this when he’s at <em>least </em>as drunk as he is right now.</p>
<p>When he lets Keith up, he does it with surprising grace, and then immediately transitions into an embarrassing jig, shaking his way around him and urging him on. “C’mon, Keith, sing with me!!”</p>
<p>Oh, who is Keith to deny Lance anything?</p>
<p>Hopefully they’ll both be too drunk to remember duet singing to <em>All I Want for Christmas is You </em>by Mariah Carey.</p>
<p>But, then again, hopefully they won’t.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. decorating</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>keith's in love 🥺</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>If somebody had told Keith that he’d be at his happiest when covered in tinsel, surrounded by gaudy Christmas lights and even gaudier Christmas music, clutching a box of half-broken ornaments (that are <em>equally as gaudy as the lights and the music</em>), he would’ve laughed in their face, and maybe decked them for good measure.</p>
<p>But here Keith is. And here are his tinsel-covered hands, and there are the Christmas lights and Christmas music, and he’s looking right at a broken ornament right now. And that person would have been right.</p>
<p>It’s not because Keith has any particular attachment to, like, Christmas celebration or decorating or anything, though—far from it. Keith would still choose most other activities over decorating for Christmas, because not only is it <em>work, </em>it’s work he’s supposed to enjoy doing, because it’s “festive” or whatever. Any other time and Keith would have just skulked away to his room, or made up some reason he wouldn’t be home and then fucked off, but this time he didn’t. Because this time, he’s decorating with Lance.</p>
<p>Lance, who is singing loudly about ten feet to his right and putting the Christmas tree up like it’s the most fun thing in the world, and the worst part is that he’s actually convincing Keith that maybe it <em>is. </em></p>
<p>God, Keith could watch Lance all day. And he does, kind of, but never as blatantly, and never as privately as now, when it’s just the two of them in their shared apartment. He’s glowing, right now—not the blindingly bright glow he usually has, though, but the low light of simmering embers, the light of warmth and comfort and home. He was so excited to decorate, today; he’d made them both hot chocolate by the time Keith came home, and turned on Christmas music shortly after. He’d been smiling and dancing, cheeks flushed and silly antler ears propped on his head, and Keith just hadn’t had the heart to bring any of his usual downer, anti-decoration mood into Lance’s exhilarated one.</p>
<p>He’s glad that he hadn’t. Raining on Lance’s parade seems downright impossible right now, and Keith thinks he’d kill anyone who walked in here and even tried to. Including himself.</p>
<p>…If that were possible.</p>
<p>“Keith!” Lance calls suddenly, startling Keith out of his reverie. He’s beckoning Keith toward him, grin stretched wide, and, oh, he’s got the tree up now. Talented.</p>
<p>“Hm?” Keith makes to walk forward but forgets that he’s holding a box, which wobbles a little in his hands as his steps imbalance it. Acting quickly, though, Keith rights it again and gives Lance a slightly bashful smile. Lance snickers.</p>
<p>“Silly,” Lance says fondly. Keith’s heart hammers painfully against his chest. “We need the ornaments now! It’s tree decorating time!”</p>
<p>With a little <em>ohhh, </em>Keith nods and, making sure the box is <em>properly </em>balanced in his hands this time, joins Lance next to the tree. He feels warm and happy, something he never actually associated with Christmastime before now—before Lance, B.L., or wait, is that already an acronym for something?—and it’s making him realize just how valuable Lance is in his life, just how good of an influence, just how positive.</p>
<p>“Hey, Lance?”</p>
<p>Lance turns with a small hum, but he doesn’t have time to answer before Keith is crashing into him, encircling his arms around him and hugging tight and hard. After a moment of surprise, Lance returns the hug with a breathless, confused laugh, and they stay like that for a while, Keith clutching onto Lance for dear life and Lance bemusedly following along.</p>
<p>“What was that for?” Lance asks once Keith has finally released him, reaching up instinctively to fix his antlers, which just makes Keith want to hug him more.</p>
<p>“I love you,” Keith says seriously, giving Lance an intense, earnest look. “A lot. A <em>lot.</em>”</p>
<p>“Oh my god, <em>Keith</em>,” Lance says, covering his rapidly reddening face. “You’re so embarrassing! I wasn’t even <em>doing </em>anything.”</p>
<p>“You were being you. And cute. But that’s pretty much the same thing.”</p>
<p>“Oh my god.” Lance shakes his head, now blushing <em>hard. </em>“Y-You’re ridiculous. I love you too.”</p>
<p>He turns, then, back to the tree, but Keith can still see the red-hued back of his neck, and he feels a surge of love as he does. Keith can’t help it—he leans forward and presses a quick kiss against Lance’s neck, noting with satisfaction that the skin there is hot.</p>
<p>Lance squeaks a little, and then sags against Keith as if in defeat.</p>
<p>“I really can’t handle you sometimes, mullet,” he says, though he gives Keith a tiny, tender smile as he talks. Shaking his head, he continues, “C’mon, cheesy, help me put ornaments up.”</p>
<p>Keith smiles—another holiday activity that he’d love to do, because it’s with Lance. Because he’d love to do anything with Lance, really, if he’s being honest. Anything at all.</p>
<p>“Where should we start?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>was this just me gushing about lance for 800 words? yes, yes it was.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. surprise [nsfw]</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>lance gives keith a surprise gift after a long day :)</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>nsfw, beware</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had been an <em>exhausting </em>day—Keith was glad to finally be retreating back to his and Lance’s room, retiring from family and friends and festivities to their own heavenly quiet space, free of small talk and obligations and screaming children.</p>
<p>Even if Keith didn’t loathe Christmas as much as he used to, the gatherings associated with it specifically still left him drained and inexplicably frustrated. So it was to be expected that the moment he entered his and Lance’s shared guest room, he collapsed onto the bed with a groan and stayed there—and that’s where he is now.</p>
<p>“Tired?” Lance says lightly after chuckling, himself sitting gently onto the bed and running his fingers through Keith’s hair. Keith only nods and leans into the touch, content to be a <em>little </em>pampered right now.</p>
<p>“…How tired?” Lance asks after a moment of quiet, in a tone that has Keith lifting his head and raising his eyebrows, interest piqued.</p>
<p>Well, he’d <em>thought </em>he was tired. Until Lance used <em>that </em>particular tone….</p>
<p>“Why?”</p>
<p>Lance lets out a laugh, now sounding a little nervous, and Keith is fully sitting up now, curious beyond belief. What could Lance possibly be hinting at?</p>
<p>“Well, I, uh…” Lance stands from the bed, hands trailing almost <em>shyly </em>to the zipper of his pants and starting to undo it; Keith blinks several times and listens with rapt attention. “I know family stuff isn’t exactly your favorite thing, so I have a—a surprise for you. A gift? Maybe? If you, uh, want it.”</p>
<p>And then, Lance pulls his pants down, and with them, his underwear; as they settle in a rumpled pile by his feet, Keith is treated to a truly unexpected, spectacular sight.</p>
<p>Lance’s dick, standing proud against his stomach, with a tiny little red ribbon tied around it.</p>
<p>
  <em>A gift. </em>
</p>
<p>“Holy <em>shit, </em>Lance!” Keith raises a shaking hand to his mouth, trying to keep the worst of his laughter at bay, and Lance sparks scarlet and sputters, rapidly bending down as if he’s trying to gather up his clothes and put them back on. Keith is <em>not </em>having that. “Hey, woah, wait—!”</p>
<p>Keith lurches forward and grabs one of Lance’s arms, pulling it away from the fallen clothes. Lance gives him a look of such sheer embarrassment and regret that Keith kind of feels bad for laughing, even though the situation is <em>objectively </em>ridiculous.</p>
<p>“I’m not, like, laughing <em>at </em>you,” Keith assures him, pulling Lance closer to him and letting his other hand ghost against Lance’s dick, which is still hard, though perhaps not as much as before.</p>
<p>Lance gives him a dubious look.</p>
<p>“I’m not!” Keith exclaims. “I was just—surprised, is all. Surprised by your surprise. I didn’t expect it.”</p>
<p>“Well, I just thought that you’d like to kind of, like, relax after such a stressful day! I thought this might be a good way to get rid of the tension, or whatever, because you always <em>say </em>you feel more relaxed after and I figured that today was a good day to do that because you seemed really, really stressed but if you don’t want to I totally understand and I know it was stupid but other people do it so I just thought—”</p>
<p>Keith cuts Lance off abruptly by surging forward and capturing his lips in a searing, deep, <em>wet </em>kiss, one that has Lance moaning quietly into Keith’s mouth and half-climbing back onto the bed, knees pressed into the mattress and hands gripping Keith as he does.</p>
<p>Releasing Lance, Keith says, “It was a <em>great </em>idea, Lance. I <em>love </em>it. You know I’m, like, obsessed with your dick.”</p>
<p>“Shut <em>up</em>!” Lance hisses, embarrassed, though he looks more than a little pleased by Keith’s words. Encouraged, Keith grasps Lance’s shoulders and yanks him more fully onto their bed, hands immediately going for the hem of his dumb Christmas sweater that he still has on for some reason, eager and impatient.</p>
<p>The shirt comes off, and with it all of Keith’s clothes, until they’re left both lying naked together and kissing hard, Keith palming at Lance’s dick and playing with the little ribbon tied around it as they do.</p>
<p>“As much as I love the ribbon,” Keith murmurs as Lance moves from his mouth to his throat, not quite sucking marks there but coming excitingly close, “I’m not sure I want it inside of me. Can I take it off?”</p>
<p>“Go for it,” Lance mumbles through his kisses, too distracted to really notice or care about what Keith is saying. Huffing out a laugh, Keith does, sliding his hands down Lance’s body and kissing along his chest as he lowers himself to Lance’s dick, taking a shuddering breath when he makes it.</p>
<p>“God, you’re gorgeous,” Keith says reverently, and Lance <em>still </em>covers his face, despite the fact that Keith’s said this at least a hundred times before and counting. After pressing a kiss to his navel, Keith leans forward and carefully bites down on the ribbon and starts unravelling it, drinking in the musky, warm scent of <em>Lance </em>as he does.</p>
<p>Lance squeaks loudly and then rapidly covers his mouth, looking down at Keith with wide eyes. “I thought you were just going to <em>untie it</em>!” he says dumbly, though when Keith looks up at him he sees those eyes going dark, sees the faint flush on Lance’s neck that means he’s enjoying the scene before him. So, before answering, Keith licks around the ribbon slowly and pulls deliberately, hoping that the sensation of the sliding ribbon will get him some kind of reaction from Lance.</p>
<p>It does; there’s a sharp intake of breath, and then a white pearl of pre-come forms at the tip of Lance’s dick. Keith quickly licks it away, lavishing his tongue around the head for a moment before backing off and smiling innocently.</p>
<p>“I am untying it,” he says, giving Lance a rather shark-toothed grin before getting back to work, moving his mouth around Lance’s hot, velvety heat and carefully ridding it of the ribbon, which flutters to the floor in seconds. Lance’s breathing sounds labored, which would be driving Keith to arousal even if he hadn’t been mouthing at his dick for the past five minutes.</p>
<p>He licks a few slow, wet stripes up the length of Lance before crawling back up to face him fully, swiping his tongue across his lips and giving Lance low, luxurious look. Lance looks spun out and dazed, which Keith will maintain is the only reason he’s able to get pinned against the mattress a second later, drinking in the tongue rapidly ravaging his mouth and feeling hot blood pump through his veins, straight to his dick.</p>
<p>“You’re playing <em>dirty</em>,” Lance says roughly after he’s through kissing Keith for the moment, hovering over him and gazing at him with such unabashed <em>hunger </em>that Keith’s cheeks pinken a little bit.</p>
<p>“You were already hard, Lance,” Keith manages to reply, though it sounds a little bit more breathless than he had intended. “How’d you do that, anyway?”</p>
<p>“Thought of you,” Lance answers evasively, throwing Keith an indulgent smirk before pressing his fingers down against his hips, making Keith squirm and keen underneath him. “Speaking of, this is about <em>you</em>, so how do you want to do this, baby?”</p>
<p>“Mmm, like this.”</p>
<p>Keith rolls over onto his stomach and lifts his ass, presenting it to Lance like some kind of meal. Lance exhales slowly, eyes blown black, and nods, grabbing Keith by his hips and massaging slow circles into them.</p>
<p>“Good idea, sweetheart,” Lance murmurs, squeezing Keith briefly before reaching over to the bedside table and rolling open the drawer, producing a bottle of lube Keith hadn’t even known was in there.</p>
<p>“When did you—?”</p>
<p>“Before we left the room this morning,” Lance answers smoothly, and Keith can hear the wet, decidedly unsexy noises of him pouring lube into his hands, and then the decidedly <em>more </em>sexy noises of him slicking his dick up.</p>
<p>Just being in this position is making Keith’s body ache with want, because they <em>rarely </em>fuck like this, what with Lance always wanting to see his face or whatever—and most of the time that’s <em>fine, </em>it really is, it’s sweet and intimate and personal, but if Keith is going to get the stress and frustration fucked out of him by Lance’s gorgeous, thick cock, then he is going to be fucked into the goddamn mattress if it kills him.</p>
<p>“Hurry <em>up</em>,” he says (okay, maybe <em>whines </em>a little), shaking his ass at Lance to accentuate his words.</p>
<p>“Impatient,” Lance replies fondly, and Keith is about to come back with a quip regarding <em>which one of them</em>, exactly, came into this room hard, but he doesn’t get a chance to before he’s gasping sharply and biting back a moan because, without any warning, Lance is pushing <em>in. </em></p>
<p>“Oh, <em>fuck</em>,” Keith swears, caught completely off guard by the sudden sensation but absolutely <em>living </em>for it. Lance doesn’t push fully in yet, Keith isn’t quite ready for all that, but the smooth, slightly chilly slickness filling Keith up even just halfway is enough for him to start moaning into his pillow.</p>
<p>“Shh, baby, there’re people here,” Lance slurs, but his heart isn’t exactly in the reprimand; he’s gripping Keith’s hips <em>hard</em>, probably leaving bruises, and barely a second after he’s finished talking, he’s already going back in, breathing hard.</p>
<p>Keith doesn’t answer him, only pushes back onto Lance’s dick, desperate for more sensation, desperate for something <em>deeper </em>and more <em>raw</em>, and Lance is only too happy to oblige; using one hand, he holds his dick and circles Keith’s entrance with it until its glistening with lube and pre-come and Keith is a gasping, whining mess underneath him, and then he puts the tip in, slow and steady, until finally he deems Keith ready and thrusts the rest into him until he’s swallowed up and Keith bottoms out.</p>
<p>“<em>Fuckyesfuckfuckfuckfuckme</em>—” Keith hisses, lost in bliss and pleasure, feeling so <em>full</em> from Lance’s long, slick cock, moving his body and feeling it push against his walls and his prostrate in the most <em>delicious, </em>blinding way. Lance groans, leaning forward over Keith’s ass and savoring the feeling of being gripped so <em>tight</em>, so <em>hot</em>, and he presses a kiss against the small of Keith’s back before slowly righting himself.</p>
<p>“You’re so good,” Lance croons, sliding out and then pushing back in, working a rhythm that has Keith clutching at the bedframe a jolting forward and back, forward and back, in time with Lance filling him up, splitting him open.</p>
<p>Lance is well and truly fucking Keith now, and it feels <em>amazing</em>; Keith can feel his entire body coiling and releasing every time Lance thrusts into him, moving the entire mattress with the intensity with which he does it. He’s murmuring praises and petnames the entire time, and Keith drinks that up like he’s dying of thirst, arching back and pushing back and against Lance until he hits his pelvis, at which point they both freeze with choked moans and Lance raises a trembling, sticky hand to Keith’s hair.</p>
<p>“You’re gorgeous like this, <em>cariño</em>,” he purrs, moving his hips in slow circles, throwing Keith into a fit of overstimulation as he feels his dick moving inside of him. “<em>Hot. </em>Beautiful. Amazing. You take me so well, Keith, you’re incredible.”</p>
<p>Keith can’t reply; he’s too full of dick and drooling slightly on his pillow, but he moves back against Lance wantonly and hopes that that gets the message across well enough. It seems to, because almost immediately Lance is thrusting into him again, their skin slapping together in a truly obscene noise that drives Keith crazy, because he <em>knows </em>how hard he’s being fucked, knows that Lance is slamming into him with all he has and he can <em>feel </em>his body being used, being <em>fucked</em>, being filled, and he’s beginning to reach a crescendo, heat building up in his stomach and dick, but he’s not done yet, he can’t come <em>yet</em>, not before Lance does<em>. </em>So he clamps down, tightening around Lance, who lets out a startled moan and picks up the pace even more, hips smacking against Keith’s ass over and over until, finally—</p>
<p>“Keith, I’m gonna—”</p>
<p>“<em>In me</em>,” Keith growls, pushing back into Lance and clenching around him <em>hard</em>, trying to give him the best sensation he can, and not ten seconds later Lance is spilling over, fucking into Keith still as he rides out his orgasm.</p>
<p>Keith was already dangerously close to the edge, and the feeling of the warm come shooting into him is more than enough to tip him over; he shoves his face into his pillow and moans loudly as he comes all over the bed, Lance’s dick still buried deep, <em>deep </em>inside of him and Lance’s come spilling out of him and all over them before.</p>
<p><em>God, </em>this is just what he needed.</p>
<p>After making sure Keith had definitely came (which Keith figures probably <em>wasn’t </em>the most difficult thing to confirm—how are they going to wash these sheets, again?), Lance slowly pulls out with a <em>pop</em> that has Keith mewling weakly before he collapses fully onto the mattress, rolling onto his back.</p>
<p>“Was that good, baby?” Lance asks once he’s settled next to him, leaning his head on his hand and smiling at Keith. “Feel less tense?”</p>
<p>“<em>Worlds </em>less,” Keith returns emphatically, shuffling closer to Lance and wrapping his arms around him. He can still feel Lance’s come leaking out of him; he’s trying really hard not to let that get him worked up again. “Thank you.”</p>
<p>“We have <em>talked </em>about this,” Lance says sternly, wagging a finger at Keith. “Stop thanking me, <em>your boyfriend, </em>for having sex with you. <em>Especially </em>when I just fucked <em>you. </em>Seriously, Keith.”</p>
<p>Instead of responding, Keith just takes Lance’s pointing finger into his mouth, tonguing around it and drawing a sharp gasp from Lance, who just as hastily tears his finger away.</p>
<p>“You’re insatiable,” he says, though he looks a lot less calm that he had before Keith did that, which Keith is calling a win.</p>
<p>“You really don’t know how hot you are,” Keith sighs, stretching out and only wincing a little. Lance shakes his head. “You should get me a washcloth, though.”</p>
<p>With a roll of his eyes, Lance sighs and stands up, wobbling a little. Keith feels searing satisfaction course through him at that, though he’s too tired to really do anything about it.</p>
<p>“Yeah, yeah,” Lance says. “This was for you, like I said.”</p>
<p>Before Lance can pull his robe on and actually leave, though, Keith says, “Hey, Lance?” and, once Lance has turned around with a questioning look, pulls him into a deep, sweet kiss.</p>
<p>They part, both smiling.</p>
<p>“I love you,” Keith says. Lance ruffles his hair.</p>
<p>“I love you, too, mullet,” he says fondly, and leaves with a mock-salute.</p>
<p>Keith sighs and leans back against the bed, sated and content. Okay, so maybe he just found one more reason that Christmas no longer sucks. Anything can become a positive if you have a Lance McClain in your life, after all.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. comfy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>snorlax plush.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Hey, Keith. C’mere.”</p>
<p>Keith turns around at the sound of Lance’s voice, raising his eyebrows, and then snorts with laughter at the sight he’s greeted with. Lance is sitting on an impressively large Snorlax bean-bag, holding the pokemon’s arms around him like he’s being hugged from behind and using his pointer fingers to beckon Keith towards him, gesturing to his lap.</p>
<p>“Come sit on him! He’s <em>so </em>comfy, Keith, you have no idea.”</p>
<p>“I think I can imagine it well enough, but thanks,” Keith returns, making a show of stretching and turning away from Lance, hoping that he can draw an indignant whine from him. He gets his wish; Lance lets out a frustrated, “hey!”, and a moment later Keith feels a hand enclose around his wrist, and he doesn’t have time to do anything more than make an alarmed noise before he’s being forcefully pulled backwards, landing right where Lance wants him.</p>
<p>On top of Snorlax, and surrounded by long legs.</p>
<p>“<em>See</em>?” Lance says, drawing the word out annoyingly, as he curls around Keith and shuffles further into the beanbag. “Comfy as fuck. Right?”</p>
<p>“I am <em>not </em>sitting in your lap, McClain,” Keith protests, struggling in vain to get out of Lance’s iron-grip around his waist. It’s to no avail, however, because Lance is stupidly strong when he’s determined, so Keith gives a frustrated huff and gives up, sitting back and folding his arms as Lance happily squeezes his middle.</p>
<p>“I caught a Keith,” he sing-songs, and then adds brightly, “Hey, just like in <em>real </em>pokemon! I choose you, Keith Kogane!”</p>
<p>Keith can’t help it—he smiles and leans back, deciding that he might as well enjoy himself if he’s going to be stuck here no matter what. Snorlax <em>is </em>comfortable, after all.</p>
<p>“Shut up, you couldn’t catch me if you tried,” he says, which is rich, considering Lance had literally just done exactly that, but <em>whatever. </em>Keith’s feeling a tad bit disoriented right now, and he thinks he’s still doing a pretty good job of hiding that.</p>
<p>“Oh, okay,” Lance says sarcastically, rolling his eyes, though he clutches Keith tighter. “C’mon, doesn’t this feel good? Isn’t this melting your icy, emo exterior even a <em>little </em>bit? You’re cuddling with a pretty guy on a Snorlax plush. That’s, like, the dream.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, tell me how it feels to have your dream come true, because I have no idea.” Keith smirks at Lance’s offended gasp.</p>
<p>“Fuck you, mullet! You’re a jerk,” Lance grumbles, sinking further onto Snorlax. Keith doesn’t deign that with a response; he just follows Lance further down, leaning against him and feeling surprisingly at peace. The plush fabric combined with Lance’s natural warmth are surprisingly comforting, as is the light-hearted banter they’ve grown more accustomed to nowadays. For all of Keith’s supposed unwillingness to indulge in Lance’s seemingly random whim of cuddling together on a Snorlax bean bag, now that he’s here, he figures he might as well revel in the comfort it’s giving him.</p>
<p>That unwillingness was probably just for show, anyway. Who’s really surprised?</p>
<p>“Keith,” Lance mumbles, and Keith is surprised at the low, sleepy quality of his voice. “Don’t move. ‘M gonna take a nap.”</p>
<p>Keith is about to open his mouth and make some indignant remark about how Lance is being incredibly presumptuous, thinking that Keith doesn’t have things to do right now and, even more, that he <em>wants </em>to be a second Snorlax for Keith to lay on. But then he cranes his neck around, looks at Lance’s calmly drooping eyes and smooth, pretty face, and feels like there’s nothing in the world he’d rather be than a vehicle for Lance’s McClain’s comfort.</p>
<p>So, without saying anything, Keith just nods, drawing a happy little noise from Lance as he curls further around him and slows his breathing, falling into the soft luxury of the Snorlax plush and, now, the Keith he’s cuddling around.</p>
<p>Yeah. Keith thinks this is a fine way to spend his afternoon.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. cuddling for warmth [nsfw]</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>sequel to the dec 2nd prompt, "snowed in"!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Keith has been hearing nothing but the wet slap of skin against skin intermingled with gasping and breathy moans for the past ten minutes now, and he is slowly becoming absolutely <em>obsessed </em>with those noises. Mostly because they’re coming from <em>him</em>, him and <em>Lance</em>, whose dick is currently buried almost to the root (yeah, Keith is <em>that </em>good—and Lance isn’t tiny, he’s hung as <em>fuck</em>) inside of Keith’s ass as he bounces on top of Lance’s lap, hot and needy and <em>wanting. </em>Lance is hitting him <em>so good</em>, just right, and he’s pushing his hips up in time with Keith’s movements, and the fact that he was able to attune himself almost instantly to the motions of Keith’s body is definitely something to be considered later, but right now, Keith is just thankful that he has that ability, because it’s making every sensation ten thousand times better, deeper, <em>hotter. </em></p>
<p>Actually, Keith had first suggested they do this with him on his stomach, ass lifted and Lance fucking him from behind, but Lance had fumbled away from kissing around Keith’s stomach to murmur, almost shyly, “No. Wanna see your face.”</p>
<p>So, Lance got his wish and here they are: Lance sitting, legs spread wide, on the couch, with Keith settled into his lap and taking him from there, eye contact and closeness galore. And, honestly? Keith is really glad Lance said something. He’s realizing that maybe his first time—and his first time with <em>Lance</em>, no less—should involve a little more than his face pressed into the mattress with his ass up in the air, no contact or warmth or kissing or shared breathing…</p>
<p>No overwhelming scent of Lance. No having Lance in his ear, whispering about how good he feels, how hot he looks, how well he’s doing. No salty skin to suck and bite as he takes it in again and again, cheeks and neck and ass flushed red, seeing stars.</p>
<p>He likes that its more personal; he likes that he can tell that it’s Lance he’s doing this with. There’s no way he’s going to explore that, though.</p>
<p>“Keith,” Lance says roughly, voice tight with a note of warning. Keith quiets his moans but doesn’t stop moving, too blissed out and addicted to the sensation of Lance’s gorgeous cock slipping in and out of him with every push down and pull up he does with his body.</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“I’m going to come soon, I—What should I do?”</p>
<p>At that, Keith <em>does </em>stop, and Lance lets out a whine and stutters his hips upward when he does. “<em>Oh</em>,” Keith breathes, somehow not yet having considered the fact that this <em>would </em>end, more likely than not with Lance orgasming before him. It’s not that Keith isn’t close; he <em>is</em>, this is his first time, he has been for a while, so that’s not what’s thrown him off. What’s throwing him off is that he knows exactly what he wants.</p>
<p>“Come inside of me,” Keith says, staring straight at Lance. His eyes widen, and he balks.</p>
<p>“Woah, no, you don’t have to do that, seriously—”</p>
<p>“It’ll be easier to clean up anyway!”</p>
<p>Lance stares at him. “You know it’s going to, like, <em>come out of you </em>still, right?”</p>
<p>“I—” Keith stops, reconsiders. Hm. He hadn’t known that. “Look, I’ve never had anything but a dildo inside of me! Shut up! Just—”</p>
<p>Keith grabs the back of Lance’s head and forces his face closer as he moves in slow, deliberate circles atop his lap. Lance moans quietly.</p>
<p>“Come in me. I want it. I want you to come inside of me.”</p>
<p>Lance exhales shakily, eyes blown black, and then nods. Keith gives him a brief, shaky smile, because he’s still, like, <em>having sex right now</em>, so this whole talking thing is a little difficult, and then resumes riding Lance, this time taking extra care to sink down onto it and get it as deep and tight in as he can, clenching around it and bottoming out. It doesn’t take long for all of this to get to Lance; he’s fucking into Keith in earnest, slamming his hips upward and joining Keith in his quest to get Lance in as deep as he can, and their skin is slapping together wetly, and Keith is well and truly <em>wailing </em>now, and at some point Lance’s name slips out (okay, Keith starts chanting it in his lustful stupor, can anyone blame him?) and, well, that’s the end of it.</p>
<p>Lance comes with a low moan, and Keith feels warm liquid release inside of him. It’s—god, it’s <em>hot</em>, Keith is really fucking into it, and he grinds down on Lance’s dick once or twice more, just to make sure Lance gets a good and heavy release into him, before he’s coming himself, messing both of their stomachs up and then collapsing against Lance again.</p>
<p>“…<em>Wow</em>,” Lance says after a moment. Keith lets out a breathless laugh and nods.</p>
<p>“Y-Yeah. Yeah.”</p>
<p>He climbs awkwardly off of Lance, then, whining a little when the <em>pop </em>of Lance pulling out sounds, and slumps on top of the couch next to him. Well. Well, well, well. That definitely…happened. It feels weird to be touching now, so Keith sidles further away still, retreating back into his own bubble and ignoring all that needs to happen now.</p>
<p>Keith looks around him. Snow is still falling, thick and white (…yeah), outside, piling against the windows in fluffy mounds that look entirely impenetrable. As he looks, though, Keith notices something; he squints his eyes, wondering if he’s going crazy, but there’s no mistaking it: the window glass isn’t fogging anymore.</p>
<p>Even though it’s covered on one side in snow and, <em>supposedly, </em>filled with warm air on the other, there is no fog to be seen.</p>
<p>Keith exhales slowly. He sees his breath in front of him.</p>
<p>Jesus <em>Christ. </em></p>
<p>“The heater’s off,” he states blandly, frankly too exhausted (and sated, yeah) to care <em>that </em>much. Besides, he’s still warm from all the, uh, fucking he’d just done a moment ago, so the chill isn’t hitting him yet. That’s probably what kept them from noticing until now too, isn’t it? They’d been messing around for around an hour now, and if the heater had been off earlier, it’s no surprise that now is the time the effects are actually making themselves known.</p>
<p>But still. <em>Annoying. </em></p>
<p>Lance, by contrast, is nowhere near as calm as Keith upon hearing this news. He jerks up and looks around wildly—<em>what are you trying to do? Find the heat?</em>—and then, likely discovering that his breath is showing up in front of him too, covers his face with his hands and groans loudly. Keith rolls his eyes.</p>
<p>“We’ll be <em>fine</em>—”</p>
<p>“We’re going to <em>freeze to death, </em>Keith!” Lance wails, interrupting Keith’s (probably lazy and ineffective) attempt at comfort. It makes Keith sigh and rub his eyes.</p>
<p>“Can you <em>please</em> not have a breakdown right now?” he asks tiredly. “I just got fucked, it was my first time, I really just want to <em>rest </em>right now.”</p>
<p>Surprisingly, Lance gets very, very quiet. So quiet, in fact, that Keith begins to be a little unnerved by it—where was the mocking response? The sass? The bravado? He glances over at Lance, and finds him leaning forward, silently brooding.</p>
<p>“…What?” Keith asks, seized with the need to figure out what’s wrong and, if possible, rectify it. Was Lance really offended by what he had said? He hadn’t been trying to be that serious, but maybe he should have saved their usual mode of speaking for longer after they’d fucked, because that probably changes things a bit and Keith isn’t sure they’ll be able to go back to normal now—</p>
<p>“That was…your first time? With anyone?”</p>
<p>Oh.</p>
<p>Keith shrugs. “Yeah. I mentioned how I’ve only used a…a dildo, when we were doing it.”</p>
<p>“Oh. I didn’t remember that.”</p>
<p>Keith begins to feel uncomfortable. “Well, is that <em>bad</em>, or something? You don’t want to have sex with a virgin, or…?”</p>
<p>“No—<em>No</em>, of course that’s not it!” Finally, Lance looks up at him, looking angry that Keith had even implied he’d be that type of person. “I just—You know, you want your first time to be special. Not, like, sloppy sex with your friend at an empty house without power.”</p>
<p>For a moment, Keith is too wrapped up in Lance calling him a friend—<em>we’re friends?! </em>he thinks with something like giddy excitement, a small smile lighting up his face, <em>wow!</em>—that he doesn’t really comprehend the rest of what Lance is saying, but when he does, it only warms him more.</p>
<p>Lance had been <em>worried </em>about him. Worried that his first time hadn’t been good, or special, or anything. But…he’s <em>wrong. </em>Keith knows that without having to think about it, without having to consider anything else; Lance was attentive, and kind, and <em>hot</em>, and there was even the added bonus of his dick being absolutely <em>fantastic</em>. Keith couldn’t think of a better first time, or with a better person to have his first time with.</p>
<p>He lays a hand on Lance’s shoulder and looks at him meaningfully. “Lance, that was <em>amazing. </em>Not just because of the sex, though that was…god, it was <em>great</em>, but it was amazing because it was you, too. I trust you. I’m glad it was you.”</p>
<p>Lance is quiet for a moment, but then he gives Keith a true, watery smile, one that reaches his eyes and softens his face. It’s while Keith is busy admiring that smile and everything that comes with it, everything it means, that he notices that Lance’s teeth are chattering.</p>
<p><em>He always did get cold quicker than me</em>, Keith thinks with an embarrassing amount of fondness. Feeling emboldened, he slides back closer to Lance, nuzzling into his side. Lance looks surprised, but accepts it without question—he even helps Keith pull in closer and wraps his arm around him.</p>
<p>“It’s cold. We should stay close to each other,” Keith murmurs, patting around the couch for the blanket he knows they threw to the side when Lance lifted Keith up and plopping him on his lap. He locates it—it’s dark blue, navy almost, and soft to the touch—and begins to unfold it and spread it over them. Lance helps, and soon they’re cuddled underneath it, bodies pressing together at every point they can, wrapped up in each other for warmth and for something else.</p>
<p>When Keith looks over at Lance, he realizes that he looks <em>happy</em>. Not happy in the just-had-sex way, but genuinely happy, happy to be cuddling up with Keith Kogane in a freezing house that they’re utterly trapped in for however long with nothing else to do but be with each other.</p>
<p>When Keith looks inside himself, he realizes that he is also happy.</p>
<p>…It’s funny how that works, isn’t it?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. gingerbread house</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>lance and keith have a Moment</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had been around an hour since Shiro had shoved Lance and Keith into two chairs, set a boxed gingerbread-house kit in front of them, and informed them that they would be locked in this room until they tried to build it.</p>
<p>Because team-building exercise. That’s what Shiro had said: “team-building.” Despite the fact that it was only Lance and Keith being forced to do it. Keith thinks it’s more likely to be a torture device specifically made for him personally than anything so benevolent-sounding as “team-building.”</p>
<p>Fuck Shiro. And all he stands for.</p>
<p>God.</p>
<p>Anyway, they’d been there for an hour, and they’d somehow managed to actually get the basic structure of the house to <em>stay put</em>, after numerous mishaps that involved a falling roof, mounds of frosting, and a now-derelict container of sprinkles. It had been a lot of hard work, but now the house is standing on its own, without <em>any </em>support except other gingerbread, and Keith is basking in this win.</p>
<p>He’d be basking in it more, of course, if he wasn’t working with Lance McClain. You win some, you lose some.</p>
<p>“Alright!” Lance says, sounding for maybe only the fifth time tonight <em>not </em>irritated. When Keith looks over at him, he’s met with a happy, grinning face, which <em>does </em>thaw out the mood a little bit. “We did it!”</p>
<p>Lance raises his hand, palm outwards, up to Keith, and it takes Keith an embarrassing five seconds to realize that he’s wanting a high-five. Awkwardly, Keith gives it, and Lance looks so overjoyed that Keith actually understood what he was asking for that Keith forgets to act annoyed at him for a second.</p>
<p>Instead, he gives him a genuine smile. Lance falters a bit, and once Keith realizes what he’s done—well, isn’t that interesting? He’ll have to revisit that later.</p>
<p>Right now, though, they have business to get down to.</p>
<p>“Okay, decorations.” Keith turns back to the (very, <em>very </em>messy) table in front of them, searching around for the tube of frosting they’d been using to stick the gingerbread pieces together. He locates it and picks it up. “Where should we start?”</p>
<p>“<em>We</em>?” Lance repeats, raising an eyebrow. “Who’s <em>we</em>? You think I’m letting <em>you </em>decorate this thing? No, no <em>way</em>, you don’t have the aesthetic for it.”</p>
<p>“<em>I </em>don’t have the aesthetic for it?!” Keith exclaims, incredulous. “Look at what you’re wearing. That’s every straight guy’s wardrobe, and it’s <em>lame.</em>”</p>
<p>Lance gasps dramatically, leaning away from Keith and flipping out the folds of his jacket. “I’ll have you know this is the <em>height </em>of fashion, Kogane, thank you very much. Way better than your weird cropped jacket and <em>knee-high boots.</em>”</p>
<p>They stare at each other for a moment. And then Keith can’t help it—he bursts into laughter, struck by the stupidity of their conversation, and not a second after Lance is following suit, falling forward into Keith and accidentally nuzzling their heads together as they laugh.</p>
<p>Keith doesn’t pull away when they touch. He just starts laughing harder; maybe it’s because they’ve had this <em>weird </em>energy around each other for a while, and little moments like that really throw into light the absurdity of it all, making it clear even though it only lasts for a few seconds, a minute at most. They’re barely touching, anyway—it’s nothing. Really.</p>
<p>“They’re not <em>knee-high</em>,” Keith mutters once they’ve calmed down, shoving Lance lightly to the side and turning back to the table. “Thigh-high at <em>most</em>.”</p>
<p>“I guess knee-high would be too sexy for you, anyway,” Lance sniffs, though when Keith turns to glare he only gives him a tiny, secret smile. Like they’re sharing a private joke. Like they’re friends enough to do so.</p>
<p>“…I’m decorating the roof,” Keith grumbles, cheeks pink, as he turns away. Lance mock-sighs but doesn’t do anything to stop Keith as he starts putting ropes of frosting over the gingerbread house, preparing to stick the little packaged-candies there.</p>
<p>Keith would rather die than tell Shiro that this stupid “team-building” exercise worked, but god, maybe he had been onto something after all.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. double date</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>shiro pulls lance aside for a talk.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Shiro narrows his eyes and decides enough is enough. He signals to Adam with only a quick jerk of the head and a brief nod towards Keith, who’s currently laughing at something Lance has said. It’s a testament to how close Shiro and Adam are—how well they know each other—that Adam understands what he’s asking for just from those miniscule gestures alone, and he cuts in between Keith and Lance’s conversation.</p>
<p>“Hey, Keith?” Adam says. Keith starts a little, but looks over. Lance does as well. “Do you want another drink? I was just about to go up and get one, so if you wanna tag along you can.”</p>
<p>Keith looks over at his empty cup of soda. “Yeah, sure,” he says with a shrug, climbing out of the other side of the booth.</p>
<p>“I want one too, actually—” Lance starts as Keith and Adam begin to walk away, but Shiro forcefully cuts him off.</p>
<p>“No, I want you to stay here,” he says in a low voice, trying to make it so that Keith doesn’t hear. Lance’s smile falters and wilts off of his face at Shiro’s tone, which is probably fair; Shiro isn’t exactly <em>happy </em>right now. But Keith doesn’t hear, and Lance actually stays put, and Shiro watches aptly as his husband and his pseudo-brother walk out of earshot, back to the food counter of the restaurant.</p>
<p>He turns back to Lance. “Look, Lance, I—I’m not mad at you,” Shiro starts, seeing that Lance kind of looks like he’s about to cry. He puts a hand on Lance’s shoulder, squeezing. That seems to calm him a bit. “I just…I’m worried about Keith. And your relationship with Keith.”</p>
<p>“My relationship with—” Lance screws his face up in confusion, drawing a sigh from Shiro. “What do you mean? What relationship?”</p>
<p>“Well, you’re not dating, right?”</p>
<p>The reaction is immediate; Lance’s eyes widen and he swallows, looking everywhere but at Shiro, suddenly fidgety. “No, we’re not dating, you’d probably be the first to know if we <em>were</em>.”</p>
<p>Shiro nods. “Exactly.”</p>
<p>That doesn’t seem to clear up anything for Lance—he actually looks <em>more </em>confused, only with a side of troubled and vaguely scared on the side. It makes Shiro feel bad, causing this type of response in Lance, but…it has to be done. Before Keith gets hurt again.</p>
<p>Because lately Shiro has been noticing how Lance and Keith act around each other. Or, more specifically, how <em>Keith </em>has been acting around <em>Lance</em>, because he’s far more attuned to Keith’s behaviors, and far more attuned to what is normal and what isn’t.</p>
<p>And the way Keith’s acting with Lance right now? That’s not Keith’s normal.</p>
<p>More and more, Keith has been very…<em>close</em>, to Lance. Practically all over him, in fact; just ten minutes ago, while he, Adam, Lance, and Keith were eating their shared pizza together, Keith had been leaning up against Lance’s side, laughing into his neck, and once or twice Shiro even saw him holding Lance’s hand casually under the table. Lance wasn’t being passive during all this either, of course; he’d been putting his arm around Keith and tugging him in all night, poking him, whispering into his neck and absently playing with his hair.</p>
<p>They weren’t being subtle, and Shiro didn’t think they were <em>trying </em>to be, which, for him, was worse. Because that means it’s all unintentional—and all the more likely to cause harm down the road.</p>
<p>“I just…I’ve been noticing that you two have been really close lately. Maybe a little bit more than normal?” he ventures, trying to approach this nicely so as to not scare Lance away, make him shut down. But he also doesn’t have a lot of time; there’s only so long Adam can keep Keith busy ordering a <em>soda. </em>“You know, touching a lot, things like that.”</p>
<p>“H-Have we?” Lance looks genuinely caught off guard by the idea.</p>
<p>Shiro nods. “Yes, you have. Maybe you haven’t noticed it, because you’re a pretty naturally physical person, but… For Keith especially, this is new. This type of thing is new.”</p>
<p>“I really don’t understand where you’re going with this,” Lance admits. He’s harried, Shiro can tell that much, and panicking a little. He needs to be more blatant.</p>
<p>Clearing his throat and preparing himself as much as he can, Shiro explains, “Lance, you know how Keith is. He’s not one to easily open himself up to people, or do the physical contact thing. Him doing all of that with you is something I’ve never seen before, and it’s great that you two are getting along so well now, but it also worries me.”</p>
<p>Shiro steps forward, looks Lance in the eyes. “I don’t want to see him hurt. And I’m concerned that he might be reading into your relationship more than you are, seeing it as something it’s not.”</p>
<p>“Shiro…” Lance laughs a little, eyes flitting away from Shiro’s as he reaches a hand to nervously rub the back of his neck. “We’re not on a double date with you here. Keith knows that.”</p>
<p>“He probably does,” Shiro concedes. “But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have those feelings. It doesn’t mean you two are on the same page.”</p>
<p>Shiro can hear the familiar sound of Adam’s footsteps, which means Keith won’t be far off either; Lance still looks anxious, a little insecure, even, but Shiro doesn’t have time to fix that—and, well, if this is what it takes for Keith not to get hurt, then this is what it takes.</p>
<p>“I’m just asking you to be careful,” Shiro says quietly, but the real message is clear: <em>You have been warned. And I’m paying attention. </em>Lance only nods, uneasy and restless, as Shiro turns around to face the two most important people in his life with a smile.</p>
<p>If he comes off as a little cold, as a little overprotective, then that’s okay; he’d do anything to make sure Keith doesn’t get hurt again. Not on his watch.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. sledding</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>crash of a sled</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Heavy snow coats the ground, completely obscuring any hint of grass or dirt, and it slopes down smoothly from the hill Keith is standing on top of, as of yet unblemished by footsteps or, more likely, sleds.  </p>
<p>Yeah. Sledding. That’s what Pidge has pulled them all out here to do. Keith isn’t exactly thrilled about it, but he seems to be the only one having reservations. Lance and Hunk are crowded around Pidge’s singular, suspiciously large sled with stars in their eyes, breath coming in excited puffs as they flit about.</p>
<p>Pidge huffs, rolls her eyes. “It’s like you’ve never seen one before.”</p>
<p>“Not in real life!” Hunk exclaims, and then, point to him and Lance, adds, “We lived in <em>Florida. </em>The closest thing to a sled down there is a Disney World prop.”</p>
<p>“And you definitely <em>cannot </em>use those,” Lance says grimly, like he’s remembering something. Keith puts his head in his hands.</p>
<p>“Well, Keith’s from <em>Texas</em>, and he’s not treating my sled like an alien,” Pidge says, exasperated. Keith snorts.</p>
<p>“I’m not impressed by average objects.”</p>
<p>Lance glares at Keith, abandoning the sled in favor of haughtily making his way toward him. “<em>You </em>are a Grinch. Where’s your Christmas spirit?”</p>
<p>“Christmas is a corporate-capitalist consumption holiday made to benefit the super wealthy at the expense of—” Keith drawls in a monotone, annoyed that he has to make this speech <em>again</em>, but Lance cuts him off with a loud “oh my GOD” and a moment later there’s a blue mitten covering his mouth.</p>
<p>“Can someone shut this guy up?” Lance asks to no one in particular, but Hunk and Pidge exchange snickers. Angrily, Keith slaps Lance’s hand away and rounds on him with clenched fists.</p>
<p>"Can someone get <em>you </em>to shut up?" he hisses, getting right up into Lance’s personal space and jabbing him in the chest. “All you do is heckle me! Find a new hobby! Go to therapy! Stop taking out all of your frustrations on me and maybe I’d be less annoying to you—”</p>
<p>“Alright, guys, break it up.”</p>
<p>Hunk walks tiredly up to them and raises both his arms, points them in front of him and in the middle of them, and slowly starts opening them up, forcing Lance and Keith apart. They’re both still glaring pretty murderously at each other, though, and there isn’t much Hunk can do to stop that, so he doesn’t even try. “We’ll give you a good, nice sledding experience, and maybe you’ll, like, see the power of friendship or something. I don’t know.”</p>
<p>“Hunk’s right,” Pidge starts, nodding in a very scientist-like way. “In fact, I think you two should take the first ride. Get on the sled.”</p>
<p>Finally, Lance and Keith break eye contact to turn and raise their eyebrows at Pidge.</p>
<p>“Um, what?” Lance says. “How can we <em>both </em>take the first ride?”</p>
<p>Pidge give Lance a long-suffering look. “Hey, Lance. How many sleds are there?”</p>
<p>“There’s…” Lance trails off, and his expression slowly morphs into one of pure horror, “…<em>one.</em>”</p>
<p>“I’m sitting in the front,” Keith says, because he is far more able to adapt to unpleasant situations, <em>thank you</em>, and also because he doesn’t trust Lance to have the lead on anything that resembles operating a moving vehicle. He passes Lance—who is still staring at the sled with wide eyes and a gaping mouth, <em>weak bitch</em>—and quickly climbs into the front of the sled, kind of just using intuition to figure out how he’s supposed to sit. Pidge doesn’t do anything to correct him, so he must be right.</p>
<p>“Wait—<em>What</em>? You’re going to make me ride with <em>this guy</em>?” Lance gets his voice back suddenly, and he sounds enraged, which amuses Keith. “He’s gonna try to <em>kill me</em>! Or he’ll get so wrapped up in the adrenaline that he’ll drive us straight into, like, a bush or something and then we’ll <em>both die.</em>”</p>
<p>“There are no bushes around here,” Keith points out loftily. Lance physically shakes with rage.</p>
<p>“Calm down, Lance. We’ll make sure Keith doesn’t kill you,” Hunk says, patting Lance on the back as he sags with defeat. “We’re not moving on until you two finish off the first ride, though.”</p>
<p>“I hate you guys,” Lance snaps, but he surprisingly obeys, climbing delicately into the sled and slotting his legs on either side of Keith.</p>
<p>That’s…real close proximity, isn’t it? Keith feels his face heating up, feeling Lance’s body all wrapped around him from behind, but he ignores it, because fuck Lance and his nice body and good smell and warm clothes and—</p>
<p>Fuck him.</p>
<p>“You ready?” Pidge jeers, her tone sparking some concern in Keith, as she beckons to Hunk and circles around the sled to the back. Hunk joins her, and they both place their hands on the sled. Keith feels mounting fear.</p>
<p>“Five, four, three, two—!”</p>
<p>They give the sled a mighty push, and it tips over the side.</p>
<p>And then they’re <em>zooming</em>.</p>
<p>“Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod<em>ohmygod KEITH CAN YOU ACTUALLY DRIVE—?!” </em></p>
<p>Keith is shocked out of his frozen state by Lance’s panicked voice, and he hastily grabs the reigns of the sled and lurches them to the right, hoping he can stabilize something amidst the rush, but he’s kind of late—the sled is going full speed ahead, kicking up snow behind it, and Lance is clinging onto him for dear life.</p>
<p>“I <em>can’t</em>—we’re going too fast already!” Keith shouts over the <em>whoosh </em>of the wind in his ears. “Woah, <em>waitwaitwait, </em>we’re gonna—”</p>
<p>Keith yanks back the reigns, because, as it turns out, even though there aren’t any bushes, there <em>are </em>pine trees, and the sled was catapulting them both <em>straight into one</em>. Keith will question, later, why his first instinct was to pull the reigns <em>toward </em>himself, rather than just trying to swerve to the side, but there’s nothing he can do about that now; the sled slams to a stop and, just like that, Lance and Keith are thrown screaming into the air, and seconds later they’re skidding and smashing into the snow.</p>
<p>Keith ends up on top of Lance.</p>
<p>“Oh my god,” he starts, shaking snow out of his hair and then gazing, panicked, back down at Lance. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—”</p>
<p>It’s then that he notices that, despite being airborne for a few seconds and crashing into the snow-covered floor with a Keith on top of him, Lance doesn’t look upset. In fact, he looks like he’s the exact opposite of upset.</p>
<p>Lance is <em>laughing</em>.</p>
<p>“You’re so <em>bad at that</em>,” Lance wheezes underneath Keith, nearly crying with laughter. “’Best pilot of our generation’ can’t even ride a sled!”</p>
<p>Keith doesn’t even have a response for that; he’s too startled by Lance’s laugh to come up with anything, and he finds that, even if Lance is kind of just making fun of him like always, it feels infectious this time—so infectious that Keith starts laughing too.</p>
<p>There they are, then, too snowy boys laying all over each other and laughing their asses off. At some point, Lance throws his arms around Keith to steady himself as he laughs, and Keith pushes into the touch, giggling into Lance’s neck and appreciating the warmth all of this is providing. When they pull back, too out of breath to continue laughing, all they do for a moment is smile at each other, cheeks pink from the cold and maybe something else too.</p>
<p>Watching from the distance, Hunk and Pidge exchange glances.</p>
<p>“Well, that went better than expected,” Pidge says. Hunk, mystified, nods.</p>
<p>Those two are so <em>weird. </em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. cold</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>southern boys make do?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It is <em>cold </em>outside.</p>
<p>Keith is marveling at it, honestly; the chill is actually <em>biting </em>at his skin, making him think that maybe leaving his face exposed wasn’t actually a good idea. The sky is gray and cloudy, trapping the cold in even more, and the snow on the ground crunches under Keith’s boots, solid and icy. The wisp of wind is striking cold into Keith’s very <em>bones</em>; who knew it could be this cold??</p>
<p>“It’s 30 degrees,” Pidge says monotonously, and Keith starts, because since when can Pidge read minds?!</p>
<p>“It’s <em>cold</em>!” Lance exclaims, making Keith look over at him. Oh, so <em>that’s </em>what Pidge had been responding to; he and Hunk are cuddled together, exaggeratedly shaking and chattering their teeth like they’re in the Arctic tundra.</p>
<p>To be fair, Keith feels about the same.</p>
<p>“Shouldn’t you be cuddling your boyfriend?” Pidge rolls her eyes, grabbing Lance’s hand and pulling, vainly trying to get him away from Hunk. He whines, but Hunk, after a short chuckle, actually let’s go first and pushes him towards Keith before gathering the grateful Pidge into his arms.</p>
<p>Lance stares at him with wide eyes. “You betrayed me!”</p>
<p>“Sorry, Lance. You and Keith should be dealing with this one, though.”</p>
<p>With a loud groan that honestly kind of offends Keith, Lance turns toward him and sniffs in disapproval. “Keith isn’t warm,” he grumbles, walking toward Keith nonetheless. “He’s not going to help—”</p>
<p>Suddenly, Lance cuts himself off, at around the same time as he circles around Keith with his arms, bringing them closer. Keith, who’d been about to bonk Lance on the head and step away from him, just raises his eyebrows.</p>
<p>Lance looks down at him and blinks rapidly. “What—Babe, what the <em>fuck</em>, you’re so warm!”</p>
<p>This throws Keith off guard, and makes him blush. “I—No I’m not! Not warmer than average!”</p>
<p>“No, no, you are <em>totally </em>warmer than average,” Lance says, and then he’s grabbing onto Keith tighter, pressing their bodies together and nuzzling into him in a truly embarrassing way. Keith sputters, now definitely warm because he’s <em>flushed. </em></p>
<p>Lance pulls back, then, and narrows his eyes. “Are you even cold at <em>all</em>?”</p>
<p>“I’m—I’m a little cold, I guess?” Keith stammers, unnerved. Lance shakes his head in disbelief.</p>
<p>“You’re betraying our Southern boy group, Keith,” he says somberly. Without looking over, he points at Hunk, then, and adds, “Hunk. A sad tune, please.”</p>
<p>Hunk starts a little but doesn’t miss a beat before humming a truly heartbreaking violin solo. Lance wipes away tears. “Yeah. That’s how you’re making us feel, mullet. I don’t even think you’re Texan.”</p>
<p>“He’s too dumb <em>not</em> to be a Texan, though,” Pidge chimes in, causing Keith to whip his head around in annoyance, even as Lance breaks out into laughter.</p>
<p>“Why are we all bullying me?! Come on, aren’t we supposed to be, like, having a snowball fight or something?”</p>
<p>“You’ll melt them all the second they hit you with how warm you are.” Lance shakes his head and let’s go of Keith, resigned. “Come on, Hunk, we’re the only real Southern boys around these parts. Let’s freeze our asses off together.”</p>
<p>“Yee-haw,” Hunk replies, snickering. He and Lance then traipse off into the snow-covered distance, leaving Keith and his biggest bully alone in the freezing weather that Keith <em>does actually find cold, thank you very much</em>!</p>
<p>Keith turns to Pidge. “I’m gonna kill you for calling Texas dumb.”</p>
<p>Pidge gives him a sly smile and says, “You sure you’re smart enough to do that? I hear the Texan education system really sucks.”</p>
<p>“That’s it!” Keith swoops down and scoops some snow into his hand, balling it up with lightning speed possible only through pure rage and determination (which he <em>is </em>feeling, even if he’s smiling a little), and immediately rears back and throws it at Pidge. It hits her squarely on the face, knocking her glasses askew, and she shouts out a laugh before making her own snowball and launching it back toward Keith.</p>
<p>They all do end up having that snowball fight, to Keith’s great satisfaction. He makes sure that Lance in particular is soundly punished—mostly for insinuating that he’d ever be a part of a boy band.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. holidays in space...?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>idk if this fits the prompt. but keith and lance go to the space mall to buy presents for people on earth</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lance and Keith had decided last night, in the midst of a join panic-session about how neither of them had bought Christmas presents yet (and Christmas is literally….well, <em>tomorrow</em>), that today was the day they’d make a trip to the Space Mall together and get that responsibility squared away. Miraculously, they’d actually followed through on this plan, and now Lance has Keith by the hand, leading him eagerly through the crowded shopping center towards what he swears is a place that sells only earth shit.</p>
<p>Yeah. Apparently, in the middle of space, in the middle of a gigantic mall, there’s a tiny store that sells old 80s-style gadgets and games from earth, and also maybe animals sometimes? Keith’s never been, obviously, but Lance swears this is where he got Kaltenecker, so Keith is giving him the benefit of the doubt and allowing himself to be led.</p>
<p>...Also, Lance’s hand is clasped tight around his, tugging him along, and it’s really warm and solid and Keith doesn’t ever really want to let go. However, he’s sorely disappointed, because the moment Lance stops in front of the store, he lets go of Keith to point excitedly. Sad.</p>
<p>“See! I told you!” Lance says, eyes shining as he looks up at it, and Keith shakes him out of the <em>Lance-McClain-just-held-my-hand-oh-my-god </em>daze and, warily, follows where Lance is pointing.</p>
<p>And, well…<em>yeah. </em>It’s an earth store in the middle of space.</p>
<p>Keith actually takes a step forward just to see it better, he’s <em>so </em>surprised that it even exists at all. Piled messily in the windows is a treasure trove of what seems to be exclusively ‘80s American memorabilia—NES consoles stacked on top of Transformer boxes, Cabbage Patch Kids jostling for space amongst piles and piles of home workout tapes, brightly colored sweaters, and Star Wars merchandise. It’s kind of <em>amazing</em>, just how specifically crafted the theme of this store seems to be, but it’s also probably entirely unintentional; Keith can just barely see a couple of what look like weird space-versions of stables at the back of the store, housing a few chickens, some lizards, and one monkey.</p>
<p>What the <em>fuck</em>.</p>
<p>“Wow,” Keith says dumbly, still staring. Lance snickers beside him.</p>
<p>“I knew you’d like this place. Maybe we can get you some leg warmers to match your dumb jacket, here.”</p>
<p>Keith doesn’t even deign that comment with a response, just rolling his eyes and shoving at Lance lightly as he walks past him into the shop. To his credit, Lance follows with just an amused laugh, which does funny things to Keith’s stomach.</p>
<p>“Alright, walking-80s-caricature, where should we start?”</p><hr/>
<p>“Hey, do you think Allura would like this?” Keith asks loudly, calling Lance’s attention away from the Mario cartridge he’d been puzzling over for the better half of five minutes now. He starts a little but turns and, the second he catches sight of what Keith has in his hand, he bursts into laughter.</p>
<p>“Is that a <em>My Little Pony</em>?!” he wheezes, causing Keith to turn scarlet.</p>
<p>“I—Yeah! But she likes colorful cute things! Like her mice!” Keith stutters, indignantly defensive, and Lance actually drops the Mario cartridge and comes over to Keith and gives him a hug. Keith freezes.</p>
<p>“Man, you’re cute,” Lance says after he lets go, poking Keith once on the cheek. This does nothing to help Keith’s blushing embarrassment, which in fact only grows worse. Shaking his head, then, Lance adds, “Yeah, I think she’ll like it. Or at least be fascinated by it. We should totally act like this is just how horses look on earth.”</p>
<p>Keith snorts, still trying to recover from being called <em>cute</em>, and places the little pink horse into his shopping bag, along with an Easy Bake Oven for Hunk, a Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em Robots game for Pidge, and a truly horrific pair of striped pink-and-blue leg warmers for Coran.</p>
<p>All he has left now is Shiro and…Lance. He’s not sure which one he’s more nervous about.</p>
<p>“Hey, Keith, c’mere,” Lance calls suddenly, and Keith turns around to find him standing in front of a tiny TV with what looks like a tiny square sitting amidst a large maze, whose green color contrasts sharply with the gray of the floor. <em>Wait a minute</em>…</p>
<p>“Oh my god!” Keith exclaims, running over and eagerly picking up the joystick controller laying on the floor. “It’s <em>Adventure! </em>My dad and I used to play this <em>constantly</em>, and I—I never thought I’d see it again.”</p>
<p>“<em>Adventure</em>?” Lance repeats confusedly, peering at the screen as Keith starts to navigate the little square avatar around the maze. “I’ve never even heard of that. What console is that, even?”</p>
<p>“<em>Atari</em>,” Keith says distractedly, attention entirely zeroed in on his game, trying to remember the paths he and his dad had figured out and where each of the little keys he’s meant to be finding were hidden. It’s sending him on a bittersweet nostalgia trip, right now; he’d lost the console after his dad died, and with it, his copy of the game. It’s not a particularly rare commodity, but it’s also not one most people back on earth owned any more—<em>especially </em>not once he got to the Garrison, where video games themselves were pretty much outlawed.</p>
<p>Playing this reminds Keith of late evenings after dinner, sitting down with his dad in front of their modest TV set and sorting through the puzzles together, shrieking when the tiny dragons appeared and one of them inevitably got the key stolen from them. It was a time when he felt most close to his dad, when it was just the both of them engaged in a project together for hours on end. It felt like home.</p>
<p>Keith hasn’t felt that in a while.</p>
<p>“…Hey, you okay?”</p>
<p>Keith starts out of his reverie to Lance’s voice. He realizes that he might’ve been putting on a pretty melancholic face, just then, while remembering his father, and he works to smooth out the expression and make it more neutral. Lance, however, doesn’t seem to be buying it, judging by the hard look he gives him when he tries.</p>
<p>“I’m fine, Lance.” Keith breaks away from the <em>Atari, </em>setting down the controller and facing Lance instead. “Just a lot of memories for me.”</p>
<p>“Do you like the game, even?”</p>
<p>Keith pauses for a moment, thinking, and then admits, “Yeah, I do. I’m not here for that, though. We should keep shopping.”</p>
<p>As he walks away, mind back on gifts, he doesn’t notice Lance swooping down to grab both the cartridge and the console, slipping them into his jacket.</p>
<p>He’ll buy that later.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>yes i played adventure so much as a child. yes i know too much about 80s pop culture. yes im projecting onto keith. &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. tree</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>keith &amp; lance pick out a christmas tree</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Honestly, Keith hadn’t known what to expect.</p>
<p>Maybe a Santa Claus walking around, handing people candy canes? Free hot chocolate for everyone who entered? Christmas lights? Perhaps <em>something </em>a little more festive than, like, a swath of land just covered in pine trees. But, as it turns out, that’s all Christmas tree farms are: swaths of land covered in pine trees. Keith’s a little disappointed at the lack of decoration, but he supposes he can’t really expect much from people who are already doing so much for Christmas.</p>
<p>…Not anything that a plastic tree couldn’t do as well, but, you know. Lance McClain was having none of that. It’s better for the environment, anyway.</p>
<p>“Alright!” Lance claps his gloved hands together and gives Keith an enthusiastic nod. “Anything catch your eye yet, Kogane?”</p>
<p>As Keith steps forward, the snow crunches underneath his shoes, and he must admit that that <em>does </em>make this all feel a little more Christmas-y, a little more festive. And Lance is so cutely enthusiastic about picking out a tree that Keith can’t really find it in himself to actually complain about anything—not if it’ll wipe that shining smile off of Lance’s face. He could never do that.</p>
<p>“They all look the same to me,” he responds pensively, peering at the nearest tree and concluding that, yep, it’s definitely a pine tree. He pokes it and a few needles fall off, though, and he doesn’t want that messing up the floor of their apartment, so he turns away from it. “Are there any that are, like, <em>not </em>shedding?”</p>
<p>Lance rolls his eyes. “They’re <em>pine trees</em>, dumbass,” he says, giving the one he’s standing next to a gentle pat. No needles fall, which makes Keith moody. “Some needles are going to fall no matter what. You just gotta touch ‘em gently.”</p>
<p>Then, Lance sidles up behind Keith, circling his arms around his waist and leaning in close, mouth ghosting against his neck as he gives a sly smile. “Though I know that gentle touching isn’t exactly your forte.”</p>
<p>Keith sputters and pushes Lance off of him, whirling around and shoving at his shoulders as he laughs and laughs. Is Keith <em>ever </em>going to get used to Lance’s innuendos, to his flirting, to his suggestive comments tailored specifically for him and about him? No, probably not, and <em>definitely </em>not when they’re in public. So, cheeks dusted pink from more than just the cold, Keith stomps resolutely away from his boyfriend, shoving his hands in his pockets and hiking his shoulders up in embarrassment.</p>
<p>“Aww, babe!” Lance trails behind him with simpering tones that definitely just annoy Keith and don’t make his heart melt, not even a little bit. “Quit pouting. I love your touches.”</p>
<p>“Oh my <em>god, </em>you are so embarrassing!” Keith bursts out, turning around to face Lance and then, a second later, stepping into him and burying his head in the crook of his neck. Lance laughs lightly. “Shut <em>up</em>, stop flirting with me, we have a job to do.”</p>
<p>“It’s always my job to flirt with you,” Lance replies fondly, stroking Keith’s hair. Keith huffs into his shoulder but doesn’t say anything else, because Lance is adorable and Keith is in love and maybe he doesn’t <em>actually </em>mind being spoiled with flirtatious comments sometimes, even if they’re embarrassing beyond belief.</p>
<p>Maybe. But you didn’t hear that from him, and he’ll deny it to anyone who tries to claim otherwise.</p>
<p>“Shut up,” Keith says, and then swoops up, pulling Lance in for a short (but intense) kiss. When he releases him, Lance looks a little dazed, which is perhaps the best antidote for Keith’s embarrassment that exists. He gives Lance a tiny, satisfied smile, and then quickly goes back to work looking at trees.</p>
<p>It takes Lance a few seconds, but he shortly follows.</p>
<hr/>
<p>“I want this one,” Keith announces, grabbing Lance by his jacket and pulling him away from the tree he’d been looking at and toward his own. For emphasis, Keith points at the tree in front of him, just to be clear that Lance knows exactly which one he’s talking about, because this is <em>important. </em></p>
<p>Lance looks the tree up and down, then looks at Keith’s intense face, and huffs out a laugh. “Why so passionate about this one, all of a sudden?”</p>
<p>Keith pauses to consider his tree. It just—it <em>looks </em>like Christmas, it’s full and green and covered in snow, but it’s not obnoxiously big like the ones around it. It’s smaller, and Keith watched as multiple people passed it by without a glance, which did, admittedly, draw him to it. Perhaps it was the amount of time he’d spent watching it get brusquely rejected, but he’d felt connected to it. It felt like the perfect one to bring back to his and Lance’s home.</p>
<p>“We’ve bonded.” Keith shrugs, already busying himself with trying to figure out how to start getting this thing away from the farm. He doesn’t notice Lance staring at him with big, watery eyes, until he’s tackled from behind in a hug.</p>
<p>“You are <em>so </em>fucking adorable; do you know that?” Lance says with seriousness, talking over Keith’s surprised yelp and clutching him tight. He spins Keith around, then, and, crouching down to be level with him, says, “How do you do it? How are you so cute without even trying?”</p>
<p>“Lance!” Keith <em>must </em>be the color of a tomato right now; he flaps his hands at Lance, pushing his face away, but Lance only hugs him tighter. “Oh my god, you’re <em>so </em>annoying, I just like the tree—!”</p>
<p>“My boyfriend bonded with a tree,” Lance singsongs, looking down at Keith fondly. “Yes, let’s get it. It’s my favorite tree now, too, because you’re so cute.”</p>
<p>“Can you die? Like, genuinely?” Keith asks grumpily, folding his arms and staring at the ground as Lance starts looking around them, trying to will his blush away. When he notices what Lance is doing, though, he adds, “Wait, what are you doing?”</p>
<p>“Looking for an attendant to help us get the tree,” Lance replies absently. Keith raises his head, brows arching.</p>
<p>“We don’t need an attendant. We can figure it out ourselves,” Keith says with more than a little misplaced confidence, crouching down to fiddle with the ropes tying the tree to the ground. “Just, like, untie this…”</p>
<p>“Keith—oh my god.”</p>
<p>Lance abandons his search for an attendant in order to make sure Keith doesn’t fuck anything up, which is probably a vainly placed hope in his abilities to stop Keith from doing what he wants.</p>
<p>If the tree falls on them both once or twice in the process, well, nobody has to know.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. matching sweaters</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Keith cringes as he observes himself in the mirror, turning and studying every angle of the horrifically tacky Christmas sweater he’s been given by Pidge. It’s—yeah, it’s the definition of an ugly Christmas sweater, all obnoxiously bright greens and reds as the background to a tiny elf body in place at the neckline, reserving the head for Keith’s own, and big bold letters laced with Christmas lights underneath that read “SANTA’S LITTLE ELF” on it.</p>
<p>It’s pretty bad. It’s <em>really </em>bad, in fact, but Keith is going to wear it because Pidge insisted and he’s afraid of what she might do to him if he backs out now. Besides, it’s a Christmas party; won’t everyone be wearing sweaters like this? Keith will hardly stand out.</p>
<p>He has to believe that, or he’ll never leave this room.</p>
<p>Taking a deep breath, Keith turns in disgust away from the mirror, trying his best to forget about what he’s wearing. He crosses to the door and steps out, immediately hearing loud laughter from Shiro in the distance, probably because of something Adam has said. He’s a little tipsy already, even though the night has just started, which Keith absolutely encourages; if anyone deserves to let loose and get drunk for a night, it’s Shiro.</p>
<p>With the comforting familiarity of his brother-dad’s voice in his ears, Keith gathers the courage to join the party, stepping out into the living room and looking around for the refreshments he knows are bound to be here. Adam and Shiro had prepped meticulously for this party, after all.</p>
<p>Just as he’s about to start heading toward the charcuterie board set out on the coffee table, however, a sudden shriek sounds through the house, and everyone starts and goes quiet, including Keith. As he looks wildly about, eyes wide, there’s a slew of running footsteps, and before Keith knows it Lance is skidding to a stop in front of him and pointing at him like he’s done something wrong.</p>
<p>“<em>HUNK!” </em>Lance shouts with surprising venom, and it’s then that Keith notices, underneath the current of bewilderment, the sound of quiet snickering. It grows louder after Lance speaks, and Hunk and Pidge emerge from the kitchen, hands covering their mouths as they desperately try not to laugh.</p>
<p>What is going <em>on </em>here?</p>
<p>“Yes, Lance?” Hunk replies innocently, looking like he’s close to tears. “Whatever do you need?”</p>
<p>“I’m disowning you,” Lance hisses, rounding on him. “You’re dead to me, you’re nothing, I hate you, I deserve reparations, you’ve <em>betrayed </em>me, I—”</p>
<p>“Hey, hey, what’s going on here?”</p>
<p>Shiro peeks around the corner of the kitchen, cheeks flushed pink. The moment his eyes focus on the scene in front of him, however, he starts blinking a lot, and then he <em>too </em>bursts into laughter.</p>
<p>“Hunk? Pidge? Did <em>you </em>do this?” he asks, clapping his hands together in admiration as he continues laughing. Hunk and Pidge proudly nod. “Well done. Hey, Keith, Lance, do you mind posing for a picture?”</p>
<p>“<em>What </em>is going on?” Keith interrupts, shoving his way into the center of the room. “Why are you all laughing at me?”</p>
<p>“Laughing at <em>us</em>, Kogane,” Lance spits, jabbing a finger toward himself. “Look at what I’m wearing!”</p>
<p>Keith blinks, not understanding what Lance’s <em>clothes </em>have to do with anything, but he obediently drops his eyes down and surveys the similarly ugly Christmas sweater he’s wearing, nonetheless.</p>
<p>Wait a minute. That—That sweater isn’t just similar to Keith’s in ugliness. It’s similar in theme. In fact, it’s…</p>
<p>“Oh, you guys are <em>dead</em>.”</p>
<p>Keith launches himself at Pidge, accompanied by Lance, who’s targeting Hunk. Because the sweater Lance is wearing? It’s an exact mirror of Keith’s, only the character <em>his </em>head gets to be assigned to is Santa Claus himself.</p>
<p>Yeah. Hunk and Pidge got them to wear matching Christmas sweaters, <em>and they decided that, in the Santa-elf duo, KEITH would be the fucking elf. </em></p>
<p>They are not going to live to see the light of day.</p>
<p>Keith grabs Pidge by the head just as Lance collides with a great yell into Hunk, and the next few seconds are a blur of limbs and hair-pulling as Shiro yelps and dives into the fray, trying to break it up. He doesn’t succeed, but soon after Adam, Allura, and even Romelle rush in to help, and with the combined effort of these four (more likely three, because both Adam and Shiro are tipsy and do not make up a full person each) people, Lance and Keith get wrenched out of the fight like naughty kittens. Romelle is even holding Keith by the scruff of his shirt at the end.</p>
<p>“They <em>tricked </em>us!” Keith shouts at the same time as Lance seethes, “You are both dead to me, I’m planning your funeral and you’re going to get the <em>shittiest </em>flowers in the <em>world</em>—”</p>
<p>“Language,” Adam pipes up, and then looks confused, because it’s usually <em>Shiro </em>ruining the fun like that. Shiro lights up and gives Adam a proud grin, which is promptly swatted away by Adam’s huff and rolled eyes. “Just—Just <em>chill</em>, okay?”</p>
<p>“<em>CAN SOMEONE TELL ROMELLE TO STOP HOLDING ME LIKE A CAT?!” </em>Keith bursts out, because he’s the <em>only goddamn one of them being lifted off the ground</em>, and Romelle lets out a quiet, “oh! I’m sorry,”—as if she doesn’t know what she’s doing, the <em>liar</em>—and drops him unceremoniously to the floor.</p>
<p>Lance automatically lurches forward to keep him from fully falling. This would perhaps be more of a moment if it didn’t just remind Keith that he was assigned elf at this Christmas party.</p>
<p>“You shouldn’t blame just Pidge and Hunk,” Allura chimes in, smiling secretly. “Romelle and I pitched in. We split the cost of the sweater into quarters.”</p>
<p>Lance sags in defeat. “Even <em>Allura</em>? All hope is lost. I need to find a new group of friends.”</p>
<p>“Why are <em>you </em>so angry?” Keith snaps, turning his glare on Lance. “<em>You </em>get to be Santa? I’m the elf! <em>I’m your little elf!</em>”</p>
<p>At that, Lance stares at him for a moment, and then snorts before descending into a small fit of laughter. Keith feels a murderous rage he didn’t know he was capable of feeling, and takes a step forward. Before he can get very far, though, Shiro’s hand is on his shoulder.</p>
<p>“Nope, not doing that,” he admonishes, and <em>man </em>his grip is hard. Keith stays still, though he folds his arms moodily in protest.</p>
<p>“C’mon, it’s a funny joke, Keith,” Pidge says, leaning out from behind Hunk where she’d taken refuge. “Isn’t he the peanut butter to your jelly? The yin to your yang? The Santa to your elf?”</p>
<p>Keith narrowly misses her when he lunges out with an outstretched hand, snarling, and even then it’s only because both Shiro and Adam gang up on him to hold him back. Pidge is snickering, again, so he must not have threatened her life enough. Disappointing.</p>
<p>“Alright, I think we’ve had enough of the Klance show,” Allura says, though in her accent it sounds more like “Klonce,” which has Keith’s mouth twisting as he tries to avoid smiling. She grabs Romelle’s hand, then, and starts tugging her back into the kitchen. “We have better things to be doing. Pidge, Hunk, stay close. Let’s make it easier for them to kill themselves if they want to.”</p>
<p>“I second that,” Hunk says, though he does throw Lance an apologetic look before following suit, Pidge close behind. Shiro, apparently uninterested in protecting <em>Lance </em>from Keith’s rage, pats Keith twice on the shoulder and then wanders back into the kitchen for another drink, followed by his exasperated husband.</p>
<p>That leaves Keith and Lance, standing alone in the living room, wearing their dumb matching Christmas sweaters.</p>
<p>Lance gives Keith a sideways glance. “Hey, Keith?”</p>
<p>Keith returns the look. “…What?”</p>
<p>Lance sidles closer to him, grinning. “How about I slip down your chimney at half-past midnight tonight?”</p>
<p>Coloring red and sputtering, Keith pushes at Lance’s face and he ducks away, cackling.</p>
<p>“That doesn’t even make <em>sense</em>!” Keith cries, shoving him as he passes in front of him and on his way to the kitchen.</p>
<p>Lance waves a hand dismissively back at him. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. I have to have <em>some </em>fun.”</p>
<p>“You don’t,” Keith mutters, but Lance probably doesn’t hear him; he’s already back in the bustling kitchen, where people look surprised but glad that he’s still alive and that they haven’t, like, killed each other yet.</p>
<p>To Keith’s great dismay, that isn’t the last of the Santa/Christmas-themed pickup lines he’ll hear tonight. He’s not sure if he’s more concerned about Lance embracing the whole couples-shirts thing so wholeheartedly, or about the fact that he seems to know so many Christmas pickup lines. Either way, Keith is dying.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>lance had a tab of christmas-themed pickup lines on his phone for the entire night smh</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. sunset</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>lance doesn't like that the sun sets so early in the winter</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lance is going to actually keel over and die in a second here.</p>
<p>“Keith,” he says, reaching up to the sky in anguish. He hears a resigned sigh next to him as Keith closes his book. “I’m dying. This is the end for me.”</p>
<p>“You are not a plant,” Keith returns evenly. This makes Lance bolt upright into sitting position, brimming with scandalized energy.</p>
<p>“I <em>am </em>a plant!” he declares. “I only need two things: water and sunlight. I’m missing one of them here, Keith! The sun has forsaken me, I’m wilting, in a minute I’m going to be the most pathetic waterlily you’ve ever <em>seen</em>— “</p>
<p>Lance gets cut off sharply when Keith swoops down to kiss him, slow and indulgent, which <em>does </em>help to recharge him a little bit, he’ll admit. But he’s still pouting when Keith lets up, because though Keith may be the light of his life, the water to his crop, his <em>everything</em>, he can’t bring the actual sun back to the sky, so the physiology isn’t quite there.</p>
<p>“’The water to your crop?’” Keith repeats, laughing a little. Lance starts. Had he said that out loud? “I’ve never heard that one before,” he continues, and Lance experiences some satisfaction when he looks up and discovers that his unfiltered thoughts had actually brought a blush to his boyfriend’s cheeks.</p>
<p>Aw. Cute.</p>
<p>“It’s what you are, <em>mi amor</em>,” he responds graciously, swooping up and giving Keith’s hand a kiss. He jerks it back quickly, embarrassed, and covers his eyes for a second. “Sadly, that doesn’t help me right now, though.”</p>
<p>“The sun’s not setting <em>that </em>early, Lance,” Keith says, exasperated. They both look at the clock.</p>
<p>5:15 p.m.</p>
<p>When they turn back to face each other, Lance is smug.</p>
<p>“Okay, it’s a <em>little </em>early,” Keith concedes, rolling his eyes. “But you’re also being dramatic. Just turn on a light.”</p>
<p>“That’s not the <em>saaaaame</em>!” Lance cries, and flops back down on his back. “I need the vitamin…the vitamin-whatever, the one the sun gives you.”</p>
<p>“Vitamin D?” Keith sounds like he’s trying not to laugh. Lance scowls.</p>
<p>“<em>Yes</em>, that.”</p>
<p>“I can—I can give you a different type of D, if you want,” Keith says ambiguously, glancing down at Lance from the side. “To compensate.”</p>
<p>Wait.</p>
<p>Did his boyfriend just—?</p>
<p>“Did you just <em>use a pickup line on me</em>?!” Lance scrambles back into sitting position, though this time he orients his body fulling to Keith’s, eyes pulled exaggeratedly wide. Keith jerks back, covering his face with his book, and groans.</p>
<p>“Oh my <em>god</em>, shut up, I knew that would sound stupid—”</p>
<p>“I <em>love </em>you.”</p>
<p>Startled, Keith peeks out from behind his book at Lance’s tone, and that’s all Lance needs. He careens forward, grabbing Keith behind the head and pushing their lips together heavily, licking into his mouth and tightening a hand around his waist as he does. Keith moans loudly, dropping the book to the floor and curling around him, always pliable and eager. It sears Lance’s blood.</p>
<p>“…You’re so lame, if that dumb line gets you to do this,” Keith mutters breathlessly once they’ve parted, swiping a hand over his wet lips. Lance hums.</p>
<p>“It’s not the <em>line</em>, it’s you saying it. You’re so earnest. It’s cute,” Lance explains fondly, stroking Keith’s hair. Keith smiles back up at him, tinged pink in the prettiest way.</p>
<p>“Is that a yes to my offer, then?” Keith asks, and Lance sighs as he feels a hand snake up his shoulder, resting warmly on his neck. A suggestion, a genuine proposition.</p>
<p>Yeah, maybe this will get him out of the early-sunset funk he’s in danger of descending into.</p>
<p>“Yes, please,” he says. All he sees before being tackled to the ground and climbed on top of is Keith’s sexy, shark-toothed grin.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. snowball fight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>lance gets keith back for the "heh, like that?" moment in space</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Okay, look alive, people, it’s happening!”</p>
<p>Lance huddles down behind the mound of snow as Hunk shoos them out of sight, himself flattening down as soon as Pidge makes room for him beside her. They’re all clutching snowballs, but Lance in particular is cradling it carefully, waiting for the moment Keith gets within eyesight, gets within throwing distance, and he can finally exact his revenge from those years ago back in space.</p>
<p>There’s no Shiro here right now for Lance to hit instead of Keith. There’s just snow, a mound of it piled high for him to hide behind, and—Lance grins wide as he spots Keith about ten feet in front of him over the mound of snow, hands in pockets and looking completely unaware of what’s about to happen to him—<em>a straight shot. </em></p>
<p>They don’t call Lance McClain the sharpshooter for nothing. He nods at Hunk and Pidge, signaling that he’s about to take his shot, and they both salute him seriously. Angling his arm back as far as he can without losing sight of his target—<em>the wind’s blowing towards Keith, I’ve gotta account for that, </em>Lance thinks, and moves a little further to the left—Lance takes a deep breath and propels the ball forward into the air.</p>
<p>
  <em>Bullseye. </em>
</p>
<p>Keith lets out a great scream as the snowball smashes into the side of his face and whirls around in a panic, eyes wide as he searches wildly for the culprit. He’ll find out soon enough; Lance is already falling on the floor laughing, pointing and shouting, “I got you! <em>I finally got you!</em>” as both Hunk and Pidge emerge, snowballs in their hands and evil smiles on their face. Keith turns just in time to see this sight, and he yelps and makes to run, but it’s too late; first Pidge lets loose her ball, calling “Look out, emo boy!” and, barely a second behind her, Hunk does the same. To their immense credit, both of the snowballs hit Keith—one on the chest and another on the leg. They must’ve been pretty hefty snowballs, because Keith actually staggers backwards and, a moment later, tips over fully into the snow with a frustrated growl.</p>
<p>Hunk and Pidge collapse into peels of laughter, joining Lance in smug victory. Keith stays on the ground for a surprising amount of time, just staring up at the sky and wondering how he could’ve been trapped like this, but, before the Garrison trio has a chance to collect themselves, Keith makes some mental decisions and jumps to a standing position.</p>
<p>“You’ll pay for that!” he shouts, and the tone of his voice is enough to have Lance, Hunk, and Pidge quieting down and looking up nervously.</p>
<p>They don’t have enough time to truly figure out what’s going on, however, before Keith is sprinting toward them with a <em>whole armful of snow</em>, and not a second later Lance feels freezing cold douse his head and shoulders amidst the shrieking of his partners in crime as they’re treated to the same.</p>
<p>“How are you able to carry that?!” Lance shouts, but Keith’s already moving to round two; he’s making snowballs faster than Lance has ever seen anyone make snowballs, and he’s <em>hurling </em>them at the three, treating them to a wartime barrage of freezing cold ice and slush. Lance laughs and holds his hands up, trying to cover himself, but Keith is resolute; snowball after snowball hits them all until they’re a shivering, cowering mess on the ground, laughing and screaming in turn.</p>
<p>Lance makes up his mind.</p>
<p>“I’m going in!” he yells with the air of one meeting their doom. Pushing mightily through Keith’s bombardment of snowballs, Lance gathers all of his energy and <em>leaps </em>forward right into Keith and tackles him to the ground.</p>
<p>“<em>LANCE!” </em>Keith screeches as he goes down, but there’s no way Lance is letting up now; he pins Keith to the ground with a grin and, solidifying his stance by closing his shins and thighs around Keith’s lower body, lets out a victorious cheer. Hunk and Pidge start clapping behind him.</p>
<p>“Fuck you!” Keith says, but he’s laughing and staring up at Lance with this fond, adoring look, and suddenly Lance is laughing too, and then leaning down to kiss him.</p>
<p>“Ewww! Get a room!” Pidge jeers, while Hunk makes gagging noises next to her. Keith gives them the middle finger and Lance deepens the kiss, giving Pidge and Hunk a truly disgusting show that has them turning away with groans and complaints.</p>
<p>Keith’s blushing when Lance finally lets up. It makes Lance just want to lean down and keep going but, unfortunately, he’s pretty sure Hunk and Pidge would not hesitate to report him for public indecency if he did that, so he reluctantly relinquishes his hold on Keith and climbs off of him. Keith sits up and shakes snow off of his hair.</p>
<p>“I got you~” Lance singsongs. “I finally got you!”</p>
<p>“<em>We </em>finally got him,” Pidge points out, having deemed it safe enough to turn around. She pushes her snow-covered glasses further up the bridge of her nose. “You only got him because Hunk was playing lookout for you.”</p>
<p>“I <em>knew </em>I saw someone!” Keith bursts out incredulously. Hunk gives a bashful laugh.</p>
<p>“Yeah, I thought I was dead for a second, there,” Hunk admits, smiling. Keith shakes his head in exasperation at himself.</p>
<p>“I’m never going out alone again. I don’t trust you people.”</p>
<p>“Hey, we only did this because I wanted to get back at you for that one time in space,” Lance says, standing himself and graciously offering Keith his hand. He takes it, which makes Lance’s heart flutter with happiness. “Now we’re even, so you’re safe. For the time being.”</p>
<p>“No trust,” Keith reaffirms, though he leans into Lance once they’re both standing all the same.</p>
<p>Lance would bet his entire skincare routine—which means a <em>lot</em>, thank you very much—that, as the four of them are making their way back up to the house, Keith is already planning his next counterattack. That’s okay; Lance has the benefit of foresight on his side, so he’ll be ready for it.</p>
<p>(Keith topples an entire snowman on top of him a week later. Lance was not ready for it.)</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. mistletoe</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>lance just wants keith to kiss him under the mistletoe</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lance has one (1) goal this holiday season: get Keith to kiss him under the mistletoe. Simple, right? Should’ve been done in a week at <em>worst</em>?</p>
<p>It’s two days before Christmas, and Lance is currently sitting in the hallway next to the training room, alone, underneath mistletoe, with his head in his hands. While Keith trains and trains and trains in the next room.</p>
<p>For an hour now. An <em>hour. </em></p>
<p>Keith doesn’t have a clue.</p>
<p>Lance lets out an anguished noise that he knows will fall under death ears, because Keith is panting and grunting in the training room, far too preoccupied with over-exhausting himself to notice Lance’s predicament. But, come <em>on, </em>it’s been an entire MONTH! How has he not noticed anything at all?</p>
<p>Okay, wait. Scratch that. He’d noticed maybe the second time, when Lance decided to be cheeky and hide the mistletoe under Keith’s pillow, just to warm him up (because he thought he’d have enough <em>time </em>to have some fun, in those days). He’d expected Keith to immediately burst out of his room that night with pink cheeks, demanding to know who’d put the little plant in there, but there had been <em>nothing</em>—until, the next morning, Lance had spotted a very bemused Keith showing the mistletoe to Allura and asking if she knew what planet it was from.</p>
<p>Yeah. Lance has a crush on a complete and utter <em>dumbass</em>.</p>
<p>Obviously, he’d intervened, and explained the whole deal with mistletoe to Keith, and at least <em>then </em>he’d gotten something like the reaction he’d been expected, though with perhaps a little more confusion than he’d hoped for. But, no matter, Lance had thought, still optimistic in his resolution, the idiot. At least Keith knows what mistletoe is now! Things should be easier from here on out.</p>
<p>You’re starting to understand the beats of this little saga by now, aren’t you? Of course things weren’t easier.</p>
<p>Refusing to give up on creativity even in the face of an exceptionally obtuse foe, Lance hid the next sprig of mistletoe inside the fridge, hanging off of the little ice box section at the very top. Then, he woke up early and camped out next to that fridge until Keith arrived, which resulted in some very embarrassing but earnest explanations to his other teammates as they filtered through for breakfast. It takes Keith a surprising amount of time to get around when there’s not an emergency, so by the time he ambled into the kitchen cutely rubbing his eyes, everyone else was seated around and watching the events with very amused curiosity.</p>
<p>And then Keith opened the fridge, grabbed the milk-substitute, closed it, and went to look for a cup.</p>
<p>The collective sigh of pity was <em>deafening </em>to Lance’s ears.</p>
<p>So, no more relying on morning-Keith, Lance decided. Not reliable enough. Fine. Lance is a pretty adaptive guy, you know? He’s always learned best from experience, and now would be no exception! Next time, he tries to make it more obvious—the classic mistletoe in the hallway entrance. Impossible to miss, impossible to ignore!</p>
<p>But Lance had underestimated Keith’s capacity to be…well, <em>Keith. </em>Because, the moment he walked through the door—even before Lance could scramble out of his hiding place and ambush him—and felt the mistletoe brush against his face, he huffed in irritation and, seemingly without another thought, reached up and tore it down.</p>
<p>The mistletoe landed in the trash can just as Lance tripped over himself trying to get to Keith in time. Needless to say, this was one of the more embarrassing moments of Lance’s mistletoe escapades.</p>
<p><em>Pick your head up, king, your crown is falling</em>, Lance had instructed himself through gritted teeth, and set about thinking of another plan.</p>
<p>…And, when that one—the one where Lance got Hunk to garnish one of his baked treats with mistletoe before he served it to Keith, and then Keith promptly <em>stabbed a fork into it and ate it</em>—fails, he thinks of another one. Mistletoe hat, what could go wrong?</p>
<p>Keith takes one look at him, rolls his eyes, tells him to “stop being so stupid”, then takes the hat off and throws it behind him before Lance can say anything. Okay.</p>
<p>He thinks of another plan.</p>
<p>And another.</p>
<p>And another.</p>
<p>By the time Lance is genuinely considering setting up an elaborate ballroom dance wherein he and Keith are the only two able to dance together, thus cementing them as the only guests who have a chance at getting underneath for an extended amount of time the wonderfully detailed mistletoe-chandelier that Lance would definitely set up, and then he’d casually mention it was there and give some lofty line about how “it’s the rules, what can you do?” and then slowly dip Keith down as the music reaches it’s crescendo, basking in the wide purple eyes and pretty pink lips before he leans in and they share a sweet, passionate kiss—</p>
<p>Lance decides he’s in too deep. So, he takes a break—just a few days, nothing long—and formally consults the person who knows Keith best: Shiro.</p>
<p>To his credit, Shiro had genuinely tried to help; Lance had been nervous going to him, given he’s trying to romance Shiro’s little brother, basically, but Shiro had greeted him with open arms and listened attentively (and with no small amount of laughter) as Lance had explained his predicament. Then, he’d given Lance some simple, but sound advice:</p>
<p>Bring the mistletoe into Keith’s world. That’s the only way he’ll truly comprehend it.</p>
<p>…Is it just Lance, or does Shiro have a thing for talking like a wise old man when he definitely doesn’t need to be talking like one? On a related note, if Lance hears the words “patience yields focus” one more time, he’s going to bite someone’s head off.</p>
<p>Anyway, that talk is what had brought Lance where he is now—slumped outside of the training room and waiting for Keith to get suitably exhausted, and then get him under the mistletoe after that. This is Keith’s world, right? So it really should work, this time…</p>
<p>If Keith ever stops training, that is.</p>
<p>Listen, Lance is not an impatient guy. His siblings will say something different, but they’re <em>lying</em>, so don’t listen to him. Lance is perfectly fine with having to wait for things to happen—especially when you compare him to someone like Keith, who gets bored after ten seconds of nothing going on. But <em>this</em>? Sitting outside of what is basically a gym, a huge ball of slowly mounting nerves and just listening to his crush overwork himself? Lance isn’t sure how much more he can take of it.</p>
<p><em>It’s probably too late anyway</em>, he thinks wearily, readying himself to stand. This whole thing was a bust—a major Christmas failure. Lance can actually sometimes tell when he’s lost, and this is one of those times; so, hanging his head and stuffing the already-crumpled mistletoe into his pocket, Lance shoves his hands into his jacket and turns his mind towards Hunk’s room, where hopefully he’ll get some sympathy and, if he’s lucky, a treat to mend his bitter, frustrated heart.</p>
<p>Yeah. That sounds really nice right about now.</p>
<p>Lance takes a step away from the training room, thinking about what kind of food he’d like Hunk to cook for him, when suddenly—</p>
<p>“Lance? Leaving already?”</p>
<p>…<em>Keith</em>?</p>
<p>Lance spins around, surprised at having been noticed at all, and confirms it—that’s Keith alright, standing there with his bayard still in hand and tiny droplets of sweat rolling down his face. He looks <em>hooooot</em>.</p>
<p>But, wait a second—</p>
<p>“Did you know I was here?” Lance asks, knitting his brows in frustration. “Why didn’t you say anything, then?!”</p>
<p>Keith shrugs, a tiny, amused smile playing on his lips. Lance’s heart gives a painful twinge. “It’s fun to watch you suffer.”</p>
<p>Lance scowls, turns away. “Yeah, well, I’m definitely suffering alright, so I hope you’re getting a <em>really </em>entertaining show. If you’re just here to mock me, though, I’ll just be on my way, I don’t want to sit here as your, like, personal clown—”</p>
<p>“Where’d you put the mistletoe?”</p>
<p>There’s a sharp intake of breath—wait, that was definitely <em>Lance’s </em>sharp intake of breath, that sound definitely came from him. And the temperature, it increases by at <em>least </em>ten degrees, but is that the air around Lance or his own body betraying him? Lance can’t tell, can’t think beyond <em>he knew, he knew, he knew </em>to make sense of anything else, because with those words Keith Kogane has pierced his heart and left him to die.</p>
<p>Keith knew. And he’d made a joke of Lance.</p>
<p>“None of your <em>business</em>, Keith,” Lance spits, and Keith’s expression immediately contorts from easy amusement to bafflement—and then, just as quickly, anger. “Rest assured, you won’t have to deal with that anymore.”</p>
<p>“Wha—Lance? Hey—”</p>
<p>Lance had already turned heel and began stomping away in quick, broad strokes, but he feels Keith’s (strong) hand grip his shoulder and force him to stop. A moment later, Keith’s turning him around, gazing at him searchingly.</p>
<p>“It would’ve been easier if you’d just rejected me,” he hisses before Keith can get a word in. “You don’t—I don’t want you playing with me like I’m some kind of <em>toy.</em>”</p>
<p>“Lance, I wasn’t—Jesus, I wasn’t playing with you!” Keith looks genuinely frustrated, which is the only reason Lance keeps listening to him as he talks. “I just—Well, I <em>was </em>kind of playing with you, but—”</p>
<p>“Oh, great!” Lance makes to turn around again, but again Keith stops him with a firm hand on his wrist.</p>
<p>“No!” he cries, voice anguished. “Lance—<em>God, </em>come here—”</p>
<p>And then it happens: Keith Kogane, the best pilot of our generation, stands up on his tip-toes and kisses Lance right on the lips.</p>
<p>In that instant, all of Lance’s anger melts away, because he’s <em>weak </em>for hot boys with mullets and bad communication skills, and there’s no way he’s missing this chance to learn what Keith Kogane tastes like. So, he kisses back, prying Keith’s mouth open with his tongue and drinking in the tiny, pretty gasp Keith lets out when he does, and the way he presses against him for more.</p>
<p>It’s unskilled, it’s inexperienced, and it’s the <em>best </em>kiss Lance has ever had in his life.</p>
<p>Eventually, though, they <em>do </em>have to part and talk about things, though when they stop it’s less due to a conscious acknowledgement of that and more due to the need to rest their lips. Lance takes satisfaction in Keith being slightly out of breath, even though he’s not exactly breathing easy either.</p>
<p>They both stare at each other for a moment. Then, shakily, Lance gets the mistletoe out of his pocket and says, “Do you think this technically counts as me getting you to kiss me under mistletoe?”</p>
<p>The result is immediate—Keith’s face splits into a wide smile and he jumps forward, nearly tackling Lance to the ground, and tightens his arms around him.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” he says, voice muffled in the fabric of Lance’s jacket, “I was just—You were being so cute, trying to get me under the mistletoe, that I wanted to see how far you’d go, but I was going to do it tomorrow night if you hadn’t gotten it yet, I just got surprised when you started leaving so I wanted to see what was going on and—”</p>
<p>“<em>God, </em>you’re so annoying,” Lance says, but he’s stroking Keith’s hair as he does, so the bite is lessened a bit. “You—You had me working my <em>ass </em>off, you jerk! Don’t play hard to get!”</p>
<p>“I <em>promise you</em>, I’m very easy,” Keith informs Lance seriously, and his tone makes Lance color red and gulp. “You’re just fun to watch.”</p>
<p>“I think you just like being wooed.” Shaking his head, Lance pries Keith off of him, feeling lighter and happier than he has all month. He taps Keith on the nose. “Lucky for you, I like wooing. I can woo you more over in my room, if you want?”</p>
<p>Keith’s eyes shine; he’s practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. It’s <em>adorable. </em>“Yes,” he says, nodding vigorously. He stops, then, and looks down at himself. “I’m, uh—I’m kind of gross right now, though.”</p>
<p>Lance waves a hand dismissively, far too elated and caught up in the victory of actually securing Keith Kogane for himself to care if he’s a little sweaty. “You’ll hopefully be getting sweaty in my room anyway, so I don’t think you have to worry about it.”</p>
<p>The little <em>oh </em>Keith lets out is positively <em>breathtaking</em>, and if Lance was more confident in his ability to lift Keith up, he’d carry him bridle-style into his room just from that noise alone. As it is, though, all he can offer is his hand and a sly, suggestive smirk.</p>
<p>“I can put the mistletoe somewhere else for you to kiss, if you want,” he offers cheekily. Keith smacks him on the head and takes his hand.</p>
<p>If he actually <em>does </em>take Lance up on that offer later, then, well, that’s nobody’s business but theirs. And the mistletoe’s.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. magic</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>sappy &amp; cheesy musings from one keith kogane</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Keith will be the first to say that he doesn’t believe in magic, much less anything as Hallmark-esque as <em>holiday </em>magic. However, the way things are right now are beginning to make Keith question that belief (or lack thereof).</p>
<p>Currently, he’s curled up in the living room of his and Lance’s ridiculously decorated apartment, and the atmosphere alone would be enough to convince someone that magic is real, in Keith’s opinion. Differently colored fairy lights dance around the windows and along the walls, their glow ricocheting off of the delicately placed and glinting ornaments on the Christmas tree, giving them (and everything else in the room) a shimmery, sparkling quality. They’ve lit the fire, tonight, and it’s crackling away in front of them, warming the two red and blue stockings hung over it and surely melting any chocolate that might be in them. Tiny Christmas baubles and elaborately painted models of snowy villages—courtesy of Shiro and Lance’s mom, who surprisingly share very similar hobbies sometimes—grace the side tables and the counters in the kitchen, whatever space isn’t already taken up by Hunk’s warm breads and Christmas cookies.</p>
<p>Lance’s fuzzy, socked feet pressing up against Keith’s thigh as he snoozes, having fallen asleep around fifteen minutes ago. Lance’s face, lit by the glow of the fire and so <em>beautiful</em>, so calm, so perfect that Keith thinks only magic could have created something like it. Lance’s passion and unparalleled stubbornness in getting Keith to enjoy things, which is what got him to this Christmas-card scene in the first place.</p>
<p>Lance’s love. Keith is draped in it, everything in this room is a product of it, it’s in every cell and fiber of his being and he could not be more deliriously, utterly, wonderfully happy about it. The most he can hope for in life is that Lance McClain feels as loved as he makes Keith feel.</p>
<p>Being so lucky, getting to experience a love like this, an atmosphere like this, a <em>happiness </em>like this—it feels like magic. It feels like something only magic could’ve made possible in Keith’s life, because he’d never considered that any of this would be <em>his</em>, not once.</p>
<p>Not even with his dad, who wasn’t perfect. Not with Shiro, either.</p>
<p>It would be inappropriate to call any of this magic, though, and Keith knows that. He knows that there’s a culprit to all this happiness, the reason he’s feeling this way.</p>
<p>It’s Lance. Encouraging him, helping him, loving him. It’s always been Lance.</p>
<p>The fact that Lance chose Keith—that they chose each <em>other</em>, that they keep choosing each other over and over again, day after day, maybe that’s the magic. Or maybe it’s just love.</p>
<p>Either way, Keith Kogane is completely caught under the spell.</p>
<p>And it would be a privilege to be under it forever.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>don't talk to me about this one. i will deny having ever written it</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. gifts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>part 2 of the "holidays in space" prompt!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“<em>An Easy-Bake Oven!!</em>”</p>
<p>Hunk’s face is so filled with joy that Keith can’t do anything but laugh bashfully and grin, happy that he’s actually gotten someone a gift that they liked, especially in these less-than-ideal circumstances. Hunk hugs the gift to his chest, humming happily, and then seems to remember who got it for him; a second later he’s on top of Keith, arms wrapped around him, nearly shouting his thanks in Keith’s ear. Keith colors red, because <em>cuteboyhugginghimerrorerrorerror</em>, but finds the strength to weakly hug him back and give him a warm smile when he lets go.</p>
<p>“Thank you, Keith. You’re the <em>best</em>,” Hunk sings, settling back in his place within the circle they’re all sitting around in. Keith only nods, still feeling a bit dazed from all the physical contact, and doesn’t notice when Lance shoves at Hunk’s leg with his foot, throwing him a jealous glare.</p>
<p>“Alright, who’s next?” Allura claps her hands together, her little My Little Pony horse that Keith gave her sitting happily in her lap; Keith’s noticed that she brushes its hair out fondly from time to time, which makes him feel special.</p>
<p>In response to her question, Shiro picks up his final present, which happens to <em>also </em>be Keith’s. Keith had decided to be a little cheeky with this one, so hopefully Shiro will still like it in spite of that. He probably will.</p>
<p>Delicately, Shiro tears the wrapping paper away from the gift to reveal a Power Rangers Megazord—or, as Keith likes to call it, Voltron Lite. His eyes light up and he starts laughing, shaking his head at Keith.</p>
<p>“Very funny,” he says, grinning, and Keith gives him a salute.</p>
<p>“Just for you, Leader,” he says mockingly. “Maybe this’ll help you plan our battles out better.”</p>
<p>“If someone makes me a battle-map, it definitely will!”</p>
<p>Keith knew Shiro would take this joke-gift well.</p>
<p>“I think it’s time for Keith to open a present,” Pidge declares, reaching past her Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em robots (that she <em>has </em>been playing with throughout this little venture, Keith would like to state) and pushing a gift wrapped in blue paper towards him, “since we’ve all opened ours from him.”</p>
<p>Keith accepts the gift with a shake of his head and instantly tears into it, not bothering to check who it’s from. He can do that later—</p>
<p>Wait a second. This is—</p>
<p>“Holy shit,” Keith says under his breath, holding the <em>Atari </em>console up into the light as if to check whether or not it’s real. It <em>is</em>, it’s not a weird, cheap replica, it’s a 1982 <em>Atari</em>, right down to the three-pronged logo and orange highlights of color. That means there’s only one person who could have bought this gift for him.</p>
<p>“…Lance?”</p>
<p>Lance huffs out a laugh, raising his hand and waving. He’s not looking at Keith yet, though, when he says, “You’re missing something, idiot.”</p>
<p>Keith blinks a little, confused, and peers down at the console again. He sees it immediately—<em>how </em>had he not noticed earlier?</p>
<p>There’s a cartridge slotted into it. A cartridge that reads <em>Adventure</em>.</p>
<p>“You seemed like you really wanted it.” Oh, Lance is going to start <em>explaining </em>himself now, isn’t he? “And the way you talked about it, with your dad—I hope it’s not too, like, weird for me to get it for you, but—<em>hey</em>!”</p>
<p>Keith honestly hadn’t heard a word that Lance had said; his only goal had been to crush him in a hug, and in <em>that </em>he seems to be succeeding. Both he and Lance topple to the floor, but Keith keeps clutching him tightly, and oh, there’s a wet spot on Lance’s shirt, is that from him?</p>
<p>“Are you <em>crying</em>?” Lance sounds more bemused than mocking, which means that Keith can keep doing whatever he’s doing—crying into Lance’s shoulder, apparently. “Dude, are you oka—”</p>
<p>“<em>Thank you</em>,” Keith whispers, breathless and watery. He’d just been <em>talking, </em>just reminiscing, and the fact that somebody had bothered to not only listen but <em>act </em>on what he’d said is—is—is wonderful. Absolutely, utterly wonderful. “Thanks for listening. And getting this for me. Thank you.”</p>
<p>“N-No problem, Keith.” Lance raises a hesitant hand and starts stroking Keith’s back. “I’m glad you like it. <em>Really </em>glad.”</p>
<p>“As touching as this is,” Pidge calls pointedly, breaking them both out of their own little bubble, “we have more gifts to get through, you know?”</p>
<p>Keith sighs and nods, leaning back from Lance and embarrassingly wiping at his damp face with his sleeve. Then, something overcomes him—he whisks forward and, quick as lightning, gives Lance a kiss on the cheek.</p>
<p>Everyone in the room, including Lance, gasps.</p>
<p>“Thank you,” Keith whispers a last time, and returns to his seat, blushing red. The eyes of everyone else follow him, but specifically Lance’s. He’s frozen in place.</p>
<p>“…You two can deal with that later,” Hunk pipes up awkwardly. He shoves a gift in Coran’s face. “Coran! You’re next.”</p>
<p>What on <em>earth </em>had Keith just done?</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>👀 might have a part 3 for u tomorrow :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. christmas</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>third part to yesterday's prompt, "gifts", which itself was a sequel to the "holidays in space" prompt :)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s Christmas night, and most everyone else has gone to bed. Not Keith, though. Keith’s wide awake, staring at the little TV Pidge allowed him to borrow for the time being and navigating his tiny square avatar through a plethora of mazes, finding keys and evading dragons with laughably simple graphics.</p>
<p>And he is having the time of his <em>life</em>.</p>
<p>That’s about to end, though.</p>
<p>“Keith?”</p>
<p>A voice floats from behind him, and Keith startles and pulls himself out of the game, blinking confusedly. He turns around and finds—Lance.</p>
<p>Lance, who had been avoiding him this whole night. Lance, who is the reason Keith has been drinking definitely-spiked-with-alien-alcohol eggnog for the past hour or so as he plays his game. Lance, who’s cheek he kissed three hours earlier.</p>
<p>Lance.</p>
<p>“Hey,” he responds shortly, turning back toward the TV, already feeling embarrassment heat up his face. There’s no way Lance is here for any other reason than to talk about Keith’s earlier actions, especially at this hour, which is…terrifying. Absolutely terrifying.</p>
<p>Lance is talking, though, and Keith should probably be listening rather than dreading it.</p>
<p>“You playing the game?” he asks, and his voice sounds like he’s smiling, which <em>does </em>make Keith feel a little calmer. “How’s it going?”</p>
<p>“Good, I think.” Keith lets his little square rest, unsure if he’s actually able to pause this game. Clearly, he hasn’t tried to in the hours he’s been playing. “There’s not really a level system, so I have no idea how far I am though.”</p>
<p>“Rough.”</p>
<p>Lance settles next to him and stays quiet, so after a moment Keith starts playing again, not sure what else to do. They’re lit only by the (very hobbled-together with space junk, miscellaneous fabric, and weird Altean lights Coran found in the very back of the castleship) Christmas tree, the dim, glittery red and gold casting slightly strange shadows across the room and contrasting sharply with the blueish glow of Keith’s TV. Wrapping paper is littered across the floor, but none of the presents have been left, which Keith takes with relief as a sign that people actually liked them. It’s definitely <em>an atmosphere</em>, and Keith’s a little bitter than it’s almost definitely eventually going to be broken by a weird, embarrassing, awkward conversation.</p>
<p>Whenever Lance decides to start talking, that is.</p>
<p>Why had he kissed Lance’s cheek in the first place? Keith’s been sifting through that moment over and over in his head—increasingly fuzzily as the spiked eggnog had started hitting his system, to be sure—and, for the life of him, he just can’t figure it out. It had just been what he wanted to do—it had felt like the <em>right </em>thing to do, the right way to show his appreciation for Lance having done something so nice and special for him.</p>
<p>Would he have done it if it hadn’t been Lance who gave him the gift, though? No, of course not. It was because it was Lance that Keith felt compelled to kiss his cheek—that he felt compelled to tackle him to the ground in a hug unlike anything he’s used to giving, so forward and presumptuous and just…just really showing his heart on his sleeve.</p>
<p>Keith doesn’t do that. But with Lance, he does. And it has made things so, <em>so </em>fucking weird, that Keith is sure he never will again.</p>
<p>“Look, Keith—” Lance sighs, and Keith braces himself. Here comes the conversation, at last. “About earlier…”</p>
<p>“It’s—I’m sorry,” Keith stumbles over his words, not sure what he’s meant to say but wanting to convey to Lance that nothing <em>has </em>to change because of the kiss on the cheek, that he hadn’t meant anything by it (even if maybe he had). “It—It was a weird moment, okay, I didn’t—I wasn’t thinking.”</p>
<p>Lance knits his brows. “I’m not saying it was a bad thing, Keith,” he says, tilting his head ever so slightly. “I just—You know, I just wanted to see why you did it.”</p>
<p>“It’s <em>fine</em>,” Keith hisses, growing defensive now. “You can forget it ever happened, I don’t care, it was just a kiss on the cheek—”</p>
<p>“I don’t <em>want </em>to forget it, Keith!”</p>
<p>At this, Keith draws up short and finally actually looks at Lance, holding his gaze and letting his confusion spell out clearly on his face. Lance balks a little, shuffling nervously where he sits.</p>
<p>“What does that mean?” Keith asks quietly. Lance swallows.</p>
<p>“Well, it—I liked that you liked my gift so much, and when you hugged me, a-and when you—when you kissed my cheek. I just wanted you to know that I didn’t think it was weird, or bad, or anything except, like, good. It was good. It was okay.”</p>
<p>Lance isn’t looking at Keith at all, now, but Keith can see the pinkish tint to his brown skin, even through the Christmas-light glow of the room and even through the barriers he’s got set up in his mind that normally prevent him from catching such details. And a thought—a very dangerous, objectively ridiculous thought that is almost definitely driven by eggnog and the sentimentality of Christmas—enters his head.</p>
<p>Is it possible that Lance has feelings for Keith just as Keith has feelings for him?</p>
<p>“That’s all I wanted to say,” Lance continues, blustering now that Keith isn’t saying anything. Keith observes him, gears working in his brain. “I’ll—I’ll leave you alone now.”</p>
<p><em>No! </em>“Lance, wait—”</p>
<p>Just as Lance is crouching up to stand, Keith grabs him by the sleeve of his Christmas sweater and tugs him—a bit harder than he intended, apparently, because Lance stumbles back down with an aborted cry and knocks into Keith, jostling them both and tangling them together as Lance tries to keep from falling right into Keith’s lap.</p>
<p>Lance stares at him, wide-eyed and clearly not comprehending, and Keith—well, words have never been Keith’s thing, have they? So, he does the only thing he knows how to do.</p>
<p>He acts.</p>
<p>Keith surges forward, operating entirely on impulse and the fizzling, buzzing hope that Lance isn’t as averse to this concept as he’d previously thought. He surges forward, embers and sparks and flames, and kisses Lance.</p>
<p>Keith kisses Lance. And not a second later, Lance is pinning Keith to the ground and kissing back. <em>Hard. </em></p>
<p>“Is this my Christmas present?” Lance asks when they’ve both leaned back, panting. “Keith, if you’re giving me a joke gift I swear to <em>god</em>—”</p>
<p>“I’m not giving you a gift at all!” Keith laughs, because he can’t help but feel deliriously elated when <em>Lance McClain </em>not only kissed him back, but <em>pinned him to the ground to do it. </em>“I’m, like, expressing my feelings—”</p>
<p>“You’re so funny,” Lance says, and the adoring tone he uses is enough to take Keith’s breath away. His smile is as bright as the Christmas lights that surround them, as warm as freshly baked bread, as cheesy and happy as these dumb metaphors are. It plants a glow inside of Keith that slowly expands until it’s shining throughout Keith, lighting up his eyes and softening his features with joy. “So, you—So you like me? Like, like-like me?”</p>
<p>“Why else would I kiss you on the cheek? Of course that’s—that’s what I meant. That’s why I did it,” Keith says, trying hard to focus when he’s got a very excited, very <em>warm </em>Lance hovering over him.</p>
<p>“Well, Merry Christmas to me,” Lance murmurs as if in awe, making Keith blush crimson. Lance leans down again, then, and kisses Keith once more. Delighted, Keith reciprocates, reaching up and wrapping his arms around Lance’s neck as well.</p>
<p>“Merry Christmas to you,” he says once they part, giving Lance a slow, indulgent smile. Lance returns it radiantly.</p>
<p>“We can keep celebrating over in my room, if you want, Kogane,” he suggests slyly, letting his eyes travel up and down Keith’s body, making Keith shiver with excitement. “I was Catholic, you know, so I know that this is definitely what Jesus would have wanted us to be doing on his birthday.”</p>
<p>Keith snorts and then dissolves into giggles. “If you say so.”</p>
<p>“I <em>do</em>.” Lance stands up and stretches his hand out, inviting Keith to take it. “I hope you’ll kiss me on more than just the cheek now, right?”</p>
<p>“I already have!” Keith counters, taking his hand. Once he’s pulled up, however, he leans close into Lance’s space and whispers, “I can kiss even more than your lips, too. If you want.”</p>
<p>“<em>God</em>, I’m lucky,” Lance sings with a love-drunk enthusiasm. “Lead the way, pretty boy.”</p>
<p>The two boys stumble their way kissing and laughing into Lance’s room, leaving the twinkling Christmas lights and Keith’s eggnog abandoned in the main room. That’s okay, though; they have plenty excuse to not clean up—they brought their best Christmas gift with them, after all.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. family</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>lance's siblings have a chat with keith</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i didn't watch season 7 or season 8 of voltron, so if their personalities are off...i dont care</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Keith is <em>trapped. </em></p><p>He stares around himself awkwardly, and Lance’s siblings simply smile and stare back at him, utterly indifferent to his internal anguish and suffering. They’ve all gathered in a circle around him, sitting cross-legged or, in Veronica’s case, next to him on the family couch, and Keith has literally no avenue of escape—unless he tries to turn around and flee behind himself, and he’s pretty sure he’ll be tackled if he does <em>that. </em>Lance’s family are a pretty strong, capable bunch.</p><p>And right now, they’re <em>scary. </em></p><p>“Can…I help you?” he asks tentatively, voice high-pitched with nerves. Screw Lance for getting too tipsy and retiring to his room for a nap, leaving Keith to the dogs! His boyfriend isn’t getting head for at <em>least </em>a week.</p><p>“Oh, we just wanted to talk to you,” Veronica replies, the more vocal of the bunch, and gives him an unnerving smile.</p><p>Make that <em>two </em>weeks.</p><p>“About what?” Keith squirms where he’s sitting, trying to evade the four sets of eyes trained solely on him, boring into his soul.</p><p>This time, it’s Rachel who pipes up. Keith gets the vibe that they’re the type of sisters who tag-team off of each other, which, in these circumstances, is all the more terrifying.</p><p>“Oh, you know, just about you. And Lance. And your relationship with Lance,” she says calmly, as if those words didn’t just strike an electric bolt of fear into Keith’s body, killing him instantly.</p><p>“He looks scared,” Luis says with a concerned, fatherly air, and Keith would be more offended at being seen as a nervous child if it wasn’t potentially helping him right now. “We don’t have to be so <em>cryptic, </em>you two.”</p><p>“We aren’t being <em>cryptic</em>,” Veronica sniffs, though she <em>does </em>lean marginally away from Keith, invading less of his personal space. For that, Keith is grateful. “But fine, whatever, be a killjoy.”</p><p>“Look, Keith,” Marco cuts in, rolling his eyes at the bickering of the others. Keith’s always liked him; he looks laid back and chill, less concerned with responsibilities that Luis is as a father and at least <em>slightly </em>less mischievous than his sisters. As far as Keith knows, anyway. All of this is to say—when he starts talking, Keith finds himself breathing a sigh of relief. “This isn’t anything <em>serious</em>, we’re not trying to gang up on you. Well—” He side-eyes Veronica and Rachel, “—<em>I’m </em>not trying to gang up on you. But Lance is our little brother, and he’s been through a <em>lot</em>, and we just want to make sure he won’t get hurt.”</p><p>“I’m not going to hurt him,” Keith says immediately, offended by the very notion. “I’m never—I’m never going to do anything that hurts him.”</p><p>“That’s reassuring,” Luis comments with a nod, but Veronica is already shaking her head.</p><p>“Listen, kid,” she starts, and she’s back in Keith’s personal bubble again, blue eyes reflecting Keith’s fearful face, “I like you. I had an emo phase too, and we’ve bonded a lot over that lately. But I was at the Garrison when you were at the Garrison, and I saw how you acted—Marco, shut <em>up, </em>he needs to hear this!”</p><p>Marco, who’d opened his mouth with a reproachful look, snaps it shut and glares at Veronica, but stays quiet. Keith wishes he wouldn’t; he doesn’t like where this conversation is going.</p><p>With a frustrated sigh, Veronica continues, “I saw you acting like you were a head above everyone else. I saw you never speaking to someone, I saw you not caring about people, and I saw you ignoring my little brother over and over again.” She leans away from Keith, crosses her arms. “It’s a bad look, Keith. It doesn’t make me confident in your ability to be good to Lance.”</p><p>“We’re not saying you’re a bad person,” Luis intervenes, throwing a vaguely admonishing look at Veronica. “But, yeah, Veronica has a point. Lance talked about you constantly, and all we can gather from you is that you didn’t know he existed.”</p><p>“I—” Keith stops, feeling sullen and attacked and a little (okay, maybe a <em>lot</em>) guilty. What they’re saying—what <em>Veronica </em>is saying, and what her siblings are implicitly agreeing with, is all true; Keith <em>hadn’t </em>cared about people in the Garrison, had had eyes only for piloting and Shiro, and the fact of the matter is that if Lance had actually tried to talk to him, be friends with him, he just <em>doesn’t remember. </em></p><p>How Keith could forget someone like Lance McClain is utterly beyond him, now. He can’t imagine he would have, but he was kind of a different person back then. A person who didn’t want friends, who didn’t think he needed them. A person who would ignore attempts at friendliness without a second though, cold and a little cruel.</p><p>He can’t exactly blame Lance’s family for being concerned after all that, can he?</p><p>“I wasn’t good back then,” he admits quietly, staring down at his lap. “I was so focused on piloting that I didn’t care about anyone else. I don’t—I don’t know if Lance tried to talk to me, I can’t remember. But blowing him off, acting like that, is something I’m not proud of. I’m not going to do it again.”</p><p>“We’re worried that Lance is starstruck,” Rachel murmurs, very purposefully not looking Keith’s way, “and that you’re feeding into that, <em>letting </em>him be.”</p><p>“You think Lance doesn’t actually like me?” Keith knows his tone is morphing into something defensive and angry, but he can’t help it—the implication is <em>alarming</em>, and if it’s coming from Lance’s own family, doesn’t there have to be some stock in it? Something <em>real </em>about it.</p><p>Instead of foreboding silence, however, Lance’s siblings’ response is immediate and cohesive; they all shake their heads vehemently, with Marco even saying quickly, “No, that’s not what she meant.”</p><p>“He’s told you how he saw you back then, right?” Luis asks patiently, turning to him with kind eyes.</p><p>Keith nods, slow and unsure. “Yeah, I mean—he’s told me that he had a crush on me, back then, and saw me as his rival.”</p><p>“He put you on a pedestal, Keith,” Veronica says. “The sun revolved around you, the way he talked about you. It was <em>Keith this </em>and <em>Keith that </em>and <em>Keith is so cool, why won’t he notice me? </em>every time he checked in with me.”</p><p>“It was the same whenever he video called,” Marco admits, shrugging. “He <em>always </em>mentioned you. It was something we just came to expect.”</p><p>Keith keeps staring at his lap, not sure what to do with this information. He’d know, <em>kind of</em>, that Lance had regarded him as some sort of celebrity; that he’d had a crush on him that he interpreted as a rivalry, or whatever ridiculous theory he’d cooked up in his head. But he hadn’t known that it was to this extent—that Lance talked to his family about him, that Lance wondered when he’d be noticed by Keith, as if being noticed by him was something worthwhile and not utterly ordinary, trivial. He finds that there’s no pride in anything like that—just a deep sadness that Lance seemed to have thought it would be a privilege to be noticed by <em>Keith</em>, and not Keith’s privilege to notice <em>him</em>.</p><p>“He doesn’t think of things like that now, of course,” Marco continues, drawing Keith out of his melancholic reverie, “but it was like that for a while, before you guys shipped off into space to do your sci-fi stuff.”</p><p>“And we just want to make sure,” Rachel interrupts, staring meaningfully at Keith, “that you’re aware of all this background going forward, and that you’re serious about the relationship while keeping that in mind.”</p><p>Luis reaches forward, then, and lays a gentle hand on Keith’s knee, startling him into looking up. He gives Keith a soft, encouraging smile. “Hey. I see the way you look at him. I don’t want you to think we’re doubting your feelings, because we’re not—we can see them, plain as day, every time you two interact. But making sure things are clear is important, right?”</p><p>Slowly, Keith nods, inexplicably reassured by Luis’s words as much as he is embarrassed by them, embarrassed that he’d apparently been wearing his heart on his sleeve when it came to Lance without even meaning to. At his words, though, Marco, Rachel, and even Veronica seem to relax a little, as if being reminded that there’s already some evidence that their little brother is being cared for by this person they’re confronting.</p><p>This, in turn, comforts Keith, and makes him a little bolder, a little more willing to tell them the truth as he sees it. “I won’t hurt him. Lance—Lance is one of the best things that ever happened to me. He’s kind, and funny, and cute, and he cares about me and helps me so much that I—all I want to do is the same for him. I just want to make him as happy as he makes me.” He sets his jaw firmly, eyes determined. “I want to spend my whole life doing that, if he’ll let me. That’s my intention.”</p><p>Nobody speaks. Then, Marco sniffs and dabs a non-existent tear away from his face. “That was beautiful.”</p><p>“Reminds me of me and Lisa,” Luis puts in fondly, giving Keith a wide smile.</p><p>“You’re kind of a sap under that stoic exterior, huh?” Veronica actually reaches forward and ruffles Keith’s hair, and he blinks in confusion—that’s it? It’s done now, everything’s fine?</p><p>“Reminds me of someone else I know,” Rachel comments jokingly, and receives a shove from Veronica in return. After righting herself, she claps her hands together and stands up. “Well, that’s that, then! I knew we’d be fine. C’mon, I’m hungry, someone make me food.”</p><p>“Make your own food,” Marco says good-naturedly, standing as well. “Finally learn what adulthood is like.”</p><p>“This coming from the man who wants to be a guitarist. <em>Please</em>.” Rachel gives Marco a dismissive wave of the hand and strides to the kitchen, ignoring his irritated sputtering as he does. Luis shakes his head, gives Keith a “what-can-you” look, and follows, leaving him alone with Veronica—the one who Keith suspects is the leader behind this whole operation.</p><p>She regards him thoughtfully. “Rachel was joking, but you <em>do </em>kind of remind me of myself. What’s your favorite band?”</p><p>The whip-lash of this conversation must be getting to Keith, because it takes him several seconds of confused blinking before he understands her question and stutters out, “Um, Muse? I think?”</p><p>Veronica’s mouth drops open. “No way! I <em>love </em>them. I mean, their most recent album is a literally corporate-y, but their early stuff? <em>Iconic. </em>I love a revolution anthem.”</p><p>“You must like <em>Drones, </em>then?” Why is Keith talking like this is normal? This is Lance’s <em>sister! </em>Who just basically accused him of not having good intentions with Lance! “It’s the most revolutionary one.”</p><p>“I do like <em>Drones</em>,” Veronica says thoughtfully, “but I think my favorite <em>has </em>to be <em>The Resistance. </em>Like, the title makes you think it’s gonna be all about fighting the man, or whatever, but there are really some beautiful songs in there that kind of convey that without being so <em>obvious </em>about it, you know?”</p><p>“Like <em>Guiding Light</em>?”</p><p>“<em>Yes!</em>” Veronica shouts eagerly, pointing at Keith. “You get it! That song is <em>totally </em>a revolution song!”</p><p>In spite of himself, Keith smiles. Maybe he’s going to fit in here just fine.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. movie [nsfw]</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>lance wants keith to have sex with him in the movie theater. keith was never truly going to deny him that.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Lance had invited Keith to the movies, of course Keith hadn’t thought anything of it. It’s a normal date activity, and Lance is always complaining about how they don’t go on enough dates, so it seemed incredibly ordinary to receive a request like that— “Come see this movie with me, Keith, it’ll be fun.”</p>
<p>Keith said yes, and now here they are, at the 11PM showing for—for—</p>
<p><em>God</em>, Keith can’t remember the name of the stupid movie with Lance touching him like this.</p>
<p>“W-What are you <em>doing</em>?” Keith hisses under his breath, wide eyes dropping down to stare pointedly at the hand slowly making its way, stroking and petting, between his thighs. At first, Lance doesn’t respond, but he <em>does </em>start drawing circles into Keith’s thighs, which has him squirming and then elbowing Lance harshly, panicked that he’s going to do something embarrassing like <em>moan. </em></p>
<p>There are two or three other people in the theater with them, and Keith is <em>not </em>going to make a fool of himself while they’re in here.</p>
<p>“C’mon, baby…” Lance’s tone is drawn out and simpering, pitched low in the way he <em>knows </em>gets Keith riled up, and his hand slides further up and in. Keith swallows thickly, feeling his body respond to the touch with tiny, aborted movements and oversensitivity. “Thought we could have some fun?”</p>
<p>“<em>Some f—</em>” Utterly flabbergasted, Keith whips his head around to face Lance so quickly that Lance’s hand startles away from Keith’s lap, giving him a moment of respite as he attempts to calm down and get to the bottom of <em>what the fuck Lance was just insinuating</em>. “Are you—Are you <em>insane</em>?”</p>
<p>Lance gives him an innocent, cute shrug. “There’s barely anyone in here. Do you really care about <em>If I Were a Teen Mobster 2</em>?”</p>
<p>Keith is so shocked, so <em>winded </em>at what Lance is requesting, that for a couple of seconds he can’t do anything but stare. Lance seems to catch on to his bewilderment, because he lets out a frustrated huff and then, suddenly, grabs Keith’s hand, and—</p>
<p>And places it right on his lap. Right on the spot where, Keith realizes with a jolt of nervous excitement, his dick is straining against the fabric of his jeans, one hard, thick length pressing into Keith’s hand, conjuring visions and sensations that Keith finds very, <em>very </em>hard to deny, even in his imagination.</p>
<p>
  <em>Oh. </em>
</p>
<p>“You…” Keith’s mouth is hoarse, even through the whispering; he licks his lips. “Did you, like, plan this?”</p>
<p>“Why else would I take you to <em>this </em>shitty movie at 11pm?” Lance asks, deadpan, though his entire attitude takes on a whole new light when Keith’s being faced with very explicit evidence that he’s not exactly cool, calm, and collected right now.</p>
<p>“You want to have sex <em>in a movie theater</em>?” Keith whisper-yells, though his tone is far more willing to entertain the notion than he’d like to admit. Lance catches that, and grins.</p>
<p>“Kinda.” He leans forward, right into Keith’s space, smelling so sweet and looking so gorgeous in the blueish darkness of the cinema. “We’re in the very back seats, nobody’s around us, the movie isn’t interesting…Why not?”</p>
<p>And then Lance is touching him again, only this time he’s not limiting it to just teasing; he swipes a hand across Keith’s lap, rubbing up against his dick blatantly and hooking a thumb underneath he waistband of his jeans. Keith gasps sharply and slams his legs closed, but this only gives Lance better friction; Keith is shaking, which makes it very, <em>very </em>hard to actually think about Lance’s proposition and not just, like, go with his instinct.</p>
<p>An instinct which is telling him to strip and climb onto Lance’s lap <em>right fucking now</em>, because he’s <em>hard </em>and <em>waiting </em>and he’s all ready, ready for <em>Keith</em>, and his dick is going to feel so fucking good pumping inside of him, quick and dirty and fucking incredible, <em>hhhnn</em>—</p>
<p>“Why not?” Keith repeats, as if trying to force himself to think of reasons why not beyond his mounting <em>need </em>to jump Lance as quickly as he possibly can. “It’s—It’s so public, I’m not—”</p>
<p>“<em>Keeeeith</em>,” Lance whines, a sound that goes straight to Keith’s dick, given the context. “I <em>want you</em>, though, <em>cariño. </em>I’m so fucking ready to feel you bouncing on top of me, trying to keep quiet…”</p>
<p>Keith huffs out a sound caught between a sigh and a moan, and immediately slaps a hand over his mouth, gazing at Lance with pleading eyes. Lance snickers wickedly, knowing that he’s got a point on Keith, because now all Keith can think of is clutching onto the theater chairs as he rides Lance, feeling the chill of the AC and the adrenaline that comes from the possibility of getting caught at any time, of marking this place so <em>publicly </em>with sex, kissing to keep quiet and pounding into each other because they don’t have much <em>time</em>, lust-drunk with the alluringly illegal…</p>
<p>“<em>Fuck</em>,” Keith curses, and his hands go to his zipper. Lance makes a quiet noise of delight. “You better <em>fucking </em>know what you’re doing.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, yeah.” Lance clearly isn’t paying attention anymore; he’s busying his hands with shoving his jeans down just enough to free his dick, which springs out and subsequently makes Keith stop his own undressing to just stare, for a moment, at the fucking <em>gorgeous </em>scene of Lance McClain sitting against a plush red chair, thighs spread as far as he can get them, and his dick pressed up against his shirt, reddened and wet with precome.</p>
<p>How much time had he spent “preparing” before now? And Keith hadn’t noticed at <em>all</em>?</p>
<p>“Next time, let me in on the plan, okay?” Keith says, finally getting his jeans low enough that his ass, but not his dick, is exposed. He looks around nervously; nobody has moved, and the flashlight of an employee hasn’t shined on them yet, so they seem okay—for now.</p>
<p>Lance laughs a little. “I knew you’d be into it.”</p>
<p>“<em>Still</em>,” Keith grumbles. He just stays still, then, afraid to put his bare ass on the dirty chair but unsure of what else to do with himself. His half-hardened dick is beginning to feel <em>extremely </em>uncomfortable in his skinny jeans, as well. “What—What now?”</p>
<p>Lance rolls his eyes and tugs Keith over and onto him, allowing him to settle on his lap (but not quite his dick), still turned toward the screen and so unable to see Lance’s face as he says, “Well, that depends. How ready are you?”</p>
<p>“I—” Keith squirms a little, trying to decide. “I need—<em>some </em>prep, obviously, but not—not a lot. I’m mostly good.”</p>
<p>“Perfect.” With the way Lance says it, Keith can’t tell if he’s calling <em>him </em>perfect or the situation perfect, but it’s not like he has tons of time to think about it, because Lance is already touching him lightly, circling a chilled, wet finger around the edge slowly and just barely dipping in. His finger is wet—he must’ve snuck lube in here somehow, too. <em>God.</em></p>
<p>Keith gasps and stuffs his face into his own shirt, unable to make the little noises of pleasure that he’s so used to making. Lance chuckles and murmurs, “Good job, baby,” and earns a light slap to the side for his cheek. Then, the finger slips fully inside, and Keith has to bite down hard to keep from letting out a high-pitched noise at the cold and the sensation, which is <em>exciting</em>—being fingered fully in public like this is just fucking <em>exciting</em>, it has Keith feeling so much more aware of everything than he usually is, heightening his senses with adrenaline. He can hear Lance’s stuttering breaths from behind him and, deciding to test his luck, subtly pushes back against the single finger, pulling it in deeper and drawing a sharp gasp from Lance.</p>
<p>“Alright, hot shot,” Lance murmurs. Keith can hear the roguish grin in his voice—his dick throbs. “Whatever you want.”</p>
<p>Lance adds a second finger without trouble and pushes them both around, making Keith feel warm and stretched and <em>hot. </em>The music crescendos in the background; the movie must be hitting a high point, and Keith has never been so aware of the volume of a film until right now, but he sees it as a chance to get a little bolder—so, while the music is loud and emotional, Keith pushes Lance’s fingers deeper still and allows himself to make a high-pitched, needy noise, which Lance responds to with a choked moan and a third finger.</p>
<p>“<em>More</em>,” Keith hisses, turning around with bright, wide eyes. “We don’t have much time.”</p>
<p>Mutely, Lance nods, seemingly taken aback by how much Keith is playing along with this, but what did he <em>expect</em>? He just presented his hard dick to Keith like some kind of meal, a meal coated in the fun of hasty secrecy, no less—how in the <em>world </em>could he have said no, or not have been into it? Even if Keith doesn’t get the full experience—his own dick is still straining against his skinny jeans, desperate for a release that Keith cannot give—he’s going to fucking give it his all and get the most out of it himself, just to prove to Lance that he <em>can. </em></p>
<p>Lance adds a fourth finger, and Keith rocks against them, humming low in his throat. He lets Lance twist and turn his fingers inside of him, plying him open, for a moment more before giving an insistent shake.</p>
<p>“I’m ready, I’m ready, go <em>in.</em>” He looks around them one more time, just to make <em>sure </em>no new developments have taken place; it doesn’t seem like they have, and Keith feels giddy excitement well up in him next to the hotness of arousal, because they might <em>actually get away with this. </em></p>
<p>“Okay, I’m—I’m going in,” Lance’s choked voice sounds from behind him, and then Keith feels the tip of his cock pressing against him; he leans back eagerly, the tiny space they’re operating in giving him unique advantages when it comes to movement, and a second later its sinking inside of him up to the hilt.</p>
<p>God, Keith’s gotten good at taking Lance’s dick.</p>
<p>“<em>Fuuuckkk</em>,” Lance curses low under his breath, grabbing Keith’s hips and squeezing hard. “Fuck, Keith, you’re so <em>good at this</em>.”</p>
<p>Keith doesn’t respond, only whimpers lowly and tries not to make any other noises as Lance slowly starts to pump into him in tiny, jerking motions, the only type possible given their current position. Keith helps him along; he pushes back onto Lance’s dick and shifts his ass, moving around it as best he can. He feels Lance’s hands seemingly involuntarily squeeze his hips tighter, likely as a substitution for making any noise, and the thought that Lance might be trying to hold back just as much as Keith is gives Keith a wonderful flurry of spiked heat pulsing throughout his body.</p>
<p>He grinds slowly back into Lance, moving in circles on top of his dick, feeling it push in <em>deeper, </em>feeling his ass connect with Lance’s jeans, he’s sunk that deeply onto it. Lance’s grip is <em>hard</em>, his thumbs are definitely pressing bruises into Keith’s side, and he’s pulling him back onto his dick as well, thrusting as much as he can in this cramped position. It’s <em>delicious, </em>Keith feels full to the fucking max, tight and breathless and alight with the knowledge that they’re doing this in the middle of the theater, fucking as everyone else watches the film, totally unknowing—</p>
<p>Keith lets out a noise. Immediately, Lance stops his movements, giving Keith a warning squeeze with his dick still buried inside of him. Yeah, Keith could’ve tried harder to keep that noise from coming out; he freezes as well, looks around him, and they both stay still long enough to make absolutely sure that nothing comes from Keith’s mishap.</p>
<p>Then, Lance starts tugging Keith’s ass back and forth again, bouncing him on his dick, and they keep going; Keith can feel precome leaking out of him as the hard, velvet heat of Lance’s cock slides in and out of him, and he feels so pliable and used and <em>hot</em>, totally willing to do anything for the eighth wonder of the world that is Lance McClain’s dick.</p>
<p>“We don’t have long,” Lance gets out, voice breathless as Keith keeps going, keeps riding back into him, “And I’m not—I’m not gonna last much longer—”</p>
<p>“You better fucking touch me, then,” Keith hisses, slamming particularly hard into Lance and grinding down slow once he’s got his dick in him up to the base, and Lance gasps sharply and slaps a hand over his mouth, choking on his moan.</p>
<p>“Yeah, I can do that,” he says dazedly, and reaches over to stuff a hand into the front of Keith’s jeans, fingertips ghosting over the tight hardness of Keith’s dick over his underwear. He slips under that, then, and the first touch is <em>electric</em>—Keith sighs with ecstasy and relief, grateful beyond belief to finally be getting some of the attention he deserves, and tries to reward Lance sufficiently, bouncing on top of his dick as quickly as he can without being noticed. Lance doesn’t waste any time; he wraps his hand around Keith’s dick, grip strong and full of intention, and starts fisting him <em>fast</em>. Keith groans quietly, pushing his ass back and letting Lance stroke him off—his hands are so fucking <em>soft, </em>and Keith’s shaved recently, so every touch is heightened and sends shots of warm intensity throughout his entire body, attuning him only to the sensation in his ass and the sensation in his dick, a duality of mind entirely carnal and saturated with addictive, hungry pleasure.</p>
<p>It’s fucking <em>amazing. </em>It’s fabulous. Keith would be telling Lance so if they weren’t meant to be quiet, if he wasn’t already aware that they’re messing the seat and his pants up with come and lube. <em>Whatever. </em></p>
<p>“Faster, harder,” Keith gasps over the sound of the two protagonists of the film screaming at each other, and Lance obliges instantly; he attunes the rhythm of his hand to the rhythm of his thrusts, and Keith’s body bounces and keens along with it, thoroughly taken, and a second later Lance gives him a warning squeeze and then he’s spilling out inside of him, <em>that fast. </em></p>
<p>Well, maybe it’ll make cleanup easier, later.</p>
<p>Keith swallows a moan as Lance starts pulling out, swirling his dick around Keith’s hole and spreading his come out across his ass, wicked and dirty. He keeps stroking Keith, hard and fast, and when Lance comes like that—inside of him—Keith never lasts long anyway; he’s soon releasing around Lance’s hand, messing up his underwear and his jeans in the process but riding out the high of orgasm all the same.</p>
<p>When he’s finished, they both keep their positions for a moment, exhausted and thrilled that they’d managed to pull this off. Keith glances behind him at Lance, who gives him a rather prideful, smug smile. Keith snorts, rolls his eyes, and sits purposefully back on Lance’s dick—Lance lets out an aborted yelp and then covers his mouth rapidly, panicking them both. They only receive a disinterested, vague “shh!” from somewhere up near the front, but luckily, nobody turns around to look at them. After this scare, Keith decides that it’s time to <em>stop</em>, and he climbs off of Lance delicately—cringing at the wetness he feels covering the <em>entirety </em>of his lower body, that’s great—and sits back down gingerly, ignoring the sting when he does. Lance <em>had </em>been pretty far in, after all.</p>
<p>Well. They, uh, sure did that.</p>
<p>“You’re buying me new pants,” Keith says petulantly, “and we’re not staying through the rest of this movie.”</p>
<p>“That’s—!” Lance starts protesting, and then pauses. “Okay, that’s actually fair.” He leans forward, though, snaking an arm around Keith and tugging him in closer. “Thanks, baby,” he says, with a tiny smile that makes all of Keith’s regrets (if he even had any) melt away.</p>
<p>“Like I said,” Keith starts gathering up his things in uncomfortable stickiness, “just ask me next time, okay?”</p>
<p>Lance giggles. “Sure thing, pretty boy.”</p>
<p>Keith purposefully goes for the most expensive jeans, later.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. winter sport</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>lance and keith are uninterested in sports, so they just hang out in a corner by themselves and annoy everyone</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>don't @ me if this isn't remotely entertaining i tried my best</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lance leans in close to Keith, speaking in a serious whisper.</p>
<p>“I like number twelve. I think number twelve is going to do great things.”</p>
<p>Keith squints his eyes, regards the TV in front of him critically. It’s kind of hard to see what’s happening on the screen, admittedly, because Lance’s family is crowded around the set, eyes glued to the snowboarding man with religious concentration, and Keith is currently curled up sitting Lance’s lap, fingers playing absently with the nape of his neck. However, Keith <em>does </em>catch the most important moment of the round—number twelve tumbles off of the snowboard in a truly embarrassing fall, and all of Lance’s family groan collectively. Veronica even boos the man.</p>
<p>“Number twelve just fell,” Keith points out, keeping the same tone as Lance.</p>
<p>“And you’re going to remember him, aren’t you?” Lance says, giving Keith a side-smile. “See? Great things.”</p>
<p>There’s silence for a moment, while Keith tries and fails to collect himself; then he snorts and dissolves into giggles, pressing his forehead into Lance’s chest in an attempt to hide his laughter from the rest of the people here, who are taking this snowboarding show <em>very </em>seriously. Lance does nothing to help him, however; he just grins broadly—as he seems to do every time he makes Keith laugh—and pets Keith’s hair, shooing his family’s questioning (and somewhat irritated) glances away.</p>
<p>“Shut <em>up</em>,” Keith says fondly once he’s calmed down enough to talk quietly like he needs to. Lance jostles their shoulders together, cheeks tinged red, and takes another drink of the hot chocolate he’d made for them both earlier.</p>
<p>Once he’s set his drink back down and swiped a <em>verrryyyy </em>alluring tongue across his lips, Lance says, “Hey, look. Guy from Japan.”</p>
<p>“Oh my god, it’s me,” Keith responds in a deadpan tone, though he does crane his neck around to try to catch a glimpse of the guy. He’s not sure why he did this, once he can finally see the screen—it’s a <em>snowboarder, </em>meaning his clothes are puffy and completely obscure his face and body. However, he looks pretty skilled, which boosts Keith’s confidence. “I like him. I’m leaving you for him.”</p>
<p>Lance gasps in mock-offense. “Keith! How could you! I thought we <em>had </em>something.”</p>
<p>“I can actually practice my Japanese with that guy,” Keith says, enjoying a little more than he should Lance’s fake-outrage and jealousy. What, he likes being doted on! Sue him.</p>
<p>“I knew I was nothing to you.” Lance sags forward, pressing his face into Keith’s shoulder, who giggles and pushes him away.</p>
<p>“<em>Or</em>,” Keith starts, lifting Lance’s head by the chin and pressing a short kiss onto his lips, “you can save our relationship. Give me a snowboarding-themed pickup line.”</p>
<p>“A snowboarding—” Lance’s brows knit in confusion, likely searching the depths of his surely pickup-line-filled mind. Then he sets his face, determined. “If that’s what it takes.”</p>
<p>There’s silence, and Keith can practically <em>hear </em>the gears in Lance’s brain turning, and he amuses himself imagining hundreds of tiny little Lances running around in there, frantically searching through files and files of shitty pickup lines, trying to find one that has to do with snowboarding. Quite a lot of time passes wherein he’s just doing this, just watching these imaginary little Lance’s, before Lance is suddenly snapping his fingers and grinning wide.</p>
<p>Oh, he’s finally thought of something.</p>
<p>“Took you long enough,” Keith quips, wrapping his arms loosely around Lance’s neck. “Hit me.”</p>
<p>“Are you the announcer of the winning snowboarder?” Lance begins, and it’s already <em>so </em>clumsy that Keith can’t help himself from snickering. Lance plows on, undaunted. “Because there’s <em>snow way </em>you’re not calling my number!”</p>
<p>Keith blinks. And then bursts into peels of hastily-covered laughter.</p>
<p>“<em>Wow</em>, that was lame,” he says breathlessly, still hiccupping with giggles a moment later when he’s able to talk. There’s that smile again, on Lance, the <em>Keith-laughed-at-my-joke </em>smile. It’s so <em>cute</em>, Keith just has to lean forward and kiss it. Lance returns the kiss eagerly, delighted by Keith’s response, and even gets a little bold; he swipes his tongue across Keith’s bottom lip, quick but promising, and Keith startles, then returns the act by shifting <em>very purposefully </em>on top of Lance’s lap.</p>
<p>Lance gasps, and jerks away, flushing red. <em>Family, Kogane, </em>his eyes say, but Keith only shrugs innocently. <em>You started it, loverboy. </em></p>
<p>Shaking his head, Lance gives the soft skin of Keith’s side a tiny pinch and returns to the snowboarding show. They’re on number fifteen right now. Their silent watching doesn’t last long, however, before Lance is asking quietly, “Hey, but did you get my joke? There were two parts of it.”</p>
<p>“I got the announcer part. What else was there?” Keith thinks it’s ridiculous that Lance is asking him to analyze his joke, but he humors him, because sometimes that’s just what you have to do with Lance.</p>
<p>Lance raises his eyebrows. “That’s not it, though!” He sounds far too excited, so Keith looks away from the TV into his alight face. “I said there’s <em>snow </em>way you’re not calling my number. <em>Snow. </em>Like. The white fluffy stuff! Snow!”</p>
<p>It takes Keith a moment, but when he finally gets it, his mouth drops open. “Lance,” he says seriously, looking him straight in the eyes, “you’re a fucking genius. I’m in love with you. Holy shit.”</p>
<p>“Wanna go upstairs to my room?” Lance asks enthusiastically, already making to stand up. Keith nods fervently.</p>
<p>“<em>God yes.</em>”</p>
<p>The family is just glad that the two insufferably annoying commentators are gone, and generously turn a blind eye to the rest of it. <em>Some </em>people here take sports seriously, after all.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. party [nsfw mention]</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>keith hates parties, so he devises a plan to get lance to leave. based off of <a href="https://candyklances.tumblr.com/post/634721565209133056/keith-is-willing-to-put-up-with-a-lot-for-lance">this prompt</a> on tumblr :)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Keith has been over this stupid party for, oh, about an hour now. Actually, scratch that. From the moment Keith stepped through the door of this ridiculously expensive, I’m-rich-and-white-and-better-than-you mansion to fucking Halsey blasting through the speakers and the smell of weed making his nostrils flare, he has been over this party. Done. <em>Finished. </em></p>
<p>It’s a damn shame that Lance is his ride here.</p>
<p>(Keith knows how to hotwire a car. Lance knows that Keith knows how to hotwire a car. Lance purposefully made Keith get out of his car a block away from where he parked, just so Keith wouldn’t know how to get to his car and, subsequently, wouldn’t be able to get to the car and hotwire the car. Keith is angry, and the second Lance leaves him alone with his car again, he’s hotwiring it. Fuck him.)</p>
<p>Despite his hissed objections from the moment that first scent of weed hit his nose, Lance has done nothing but give him a reassuring, albeit slightly apologetic, pat on the arm—and then gone right back to talking with whatever boring person he’s talking to at the time. Keith can barely remember why they’re here; he thinks this is one of Marco’s friends’ houses? And they were, like, invited, and Lance finds it impossible to refuse an invitation to a party, no matter how little he knows about the person throwing it?</p>
<p>Something like that. Keith took one (1) shot and his brain started feeling fuzzy, so he’s not exactly thinking totally clearly right now. And he’s bored. Which makes it hard to remember things.</p>
<p>Things like why the hell he lets Lance get him into situations like this, situations that he <em>vehemently </em>despises and hates every minute of. <em>In fact, </em>Keith thinks loftily, pushing himself off the wall he’s been leaning against for the better half of fifteen minutes, <em>I’ve been here long enough. Fuck this. </em></p>
<p>Fuck this.</p>
<p>Keith locates Lance easily because, to his credit, he never wanders too far from Keith, never far enough to where Keith can’t see him. Right now, he’s talking to a very pretty goth girl (Keith’s jealousy flares up) and the pretty goth girl’s friend, who she’s holding hands with (<em>oh</em>—Keith’s jealousy sulks away, embarrassed). Keith takes a brief moment to wonder <em>why </em>cool and pretty goth girls are at <em>this </em>horrible party, and then makes his way toward the three of them, sidling up next to Lance as inconspicuously as he possibly can.</p>
<p>“—really likes knives, so you guys might get alo—Keith!” Lance pulls Keith closer, because inconspicuous is not his forte. Keith groans internally. “We were just talking about you. Verona here likes knives too!”</p>
<p>Keith raises his eyebrows. “Verona? Like, Shakespeare-Verona?”</p>
<p>“Only the 1996 one,” the goth girl replies coolly, meeting his gaze unflinchingly. Keith nods slowly.</p>
<p>“Yeah. I love that one.”</p>
<p>They share a moment of understanding. Lance and Verona’s girlfriend share a look.</p>
<p>“Ooo<em>ookay</em>,” Lance intervenes, cutting Keith’s staring contest off. He shakes himself, brings himself back to the reality where young people don’t speak Shakespeare and drive Ferraris while monologuing about how much they suffer under their mobster parents’ harsh rules.</p>
<p>And, like, LSD? What the hell was 1996 <em>Romeo and Juliet</em>, anyway?</p>
<p>Lance is back to talking about who-knows-what, and Keith’s bored again. His miniature standoff with that girl had distracted him, but now his plan pops back into his head with ease, and he remembers why he left his safe little corner in the first place.</p>
<p>Snaking a hand around Lance’s waist, Keith begins stroking gently at Lance’s skin, pressing the pads of his fingers into the fabric of Lance’s shirt, feeling the warmth radiate from his body. Lance doesn’t stumble at all; that’s fine, Keith hadn’t really expected him to, not from an innocent touch like this.</p>
<p>Of course he hadn’t been planning to stop here. Who is he if not a daring rogue of adventure-seeking dissent, prone to impulsivity and brazen rashness?</p>
<p>…Okay, yeah, those were Coran’s words, not Keith’s. He doesn’t even know what most of them mean. <em>What’s a “brazen”? </em></p>
<p>Ever so slowly, Keith drops his hand lower, curling his fingers around Lance’s hipbones with a simmer of delighted satisfaction—oh, how he loves Lance’s hips. Gorgeous, razor-sharp, perfect V-line, <em>yes. </em>Pointing right to the <em>best part</em>, Lance’s hips. Incredible. He thumbs lazy circles into them, and is treated to a small, nearly unnoticeable stutter in Lance’s speech—the women he’s talking to probably didn’t notice it, but Keith, who’s looking out for it, certainly did, and it solidifies his path, reassuring him that he’s going in the right direction.</p>
<p>So, he drops lower, hand ghosting Lance’s thigh.</p>
<p>“Actually, I, uh, kind of have to go to the bathroom. I’ll catch you guys later, I hope?” Lance interrupts the conversation, voice strangely high-pitched and distracted. Keith can’t help but smile a little—and raise a gloved hand to wave mockingly at the women as they shrug and leave. <em>Success. </em></p>
<p>Once they’re fully out of sight, Lance rounds on Keith immediately, expression caught between irritation and interest. “What was <em>that, </em>Keith?”</p>
<p>“What was what?” Keith replies, clasping his hands behind him innocently. “I wasn’t doing anything.”</p>
<p>“You were <em>touching me</em>, Kogane.” Lance jabs a finger into Keith’s chest. Uncalled for, in Keith’s opinion, but whatever keeps him calm. “Stop it.”</p>
<p>“I can’t stop something I wasn’t doing.”</p>
<p>“<em>Keith</em>—” Lance cuts himself off, heaves a heavy sigh. “Whatever. I have to keep talking to people, Keith, I want to get to know my cousin’s friends.”</p>
<p><em>Cousin. It was his cousin, </em>Keith thinks, nodding to himself in understanding. He knew it was some offshoot relation of Lance’s, at least… “Yeah, sure, do whatever you gotta do.”</p>
<p>Lance narrows his eyes, clearly not trusting a word that’s coming out of Keith’s mouth which, to be fair, is pretty smart of him. Hunk would be proud.</p>
<p>He puts two fingers to his eyes and then points them at Keith in the universal <em>I’m-watching-you </em>gesture. Keith gives him a deadpan stare in response.</p>
<p>“I’m watching,” Lance says, as if his gesture wasn’t perfectly clear. Keith rolls his eyes, but deigns Lance with a nod. He’s gotta keep him off the scent, after all. “Very closely.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, yeah, go be an extrovert,” Keith yawns, slinking away back to his dark corner. “I’ll be here.” <em>Dying. Waiting. </em></p>
<p>With a final, extremely unnerved look, Lance gives Keith a singular nod and then traipses away, on to the next conversation he apparently “needs” to have.</p>
<p>Keith allows himself a small smile. Phase 1, complete. Now he just needs to catch Lance sitting down.</p><hr/>
<p>
  <em>Yes! </em>
</p>
<p>Keith cheers silently in his mind when, after fifteen minutes of awkwardly eyeing the spot like a Sim being blocked by invisible Internet code glitches, Lance finally allows himself to settle into the single plush armchair in the room, continuing his conversation with the enthusiastic guy wearing a <em>Beatles </em>shirt from there. Thank <em>god. </em></p>
<p>Now, Keith can make his second, hopefully knockout (or close to) move. Pushing himself off the wall he’s been leaning against for the better half of fifteen minutes (it’s a <em>different wall</em> this time, okay?), he glides toward Lance and, not so much as letting him get a hasty greeting out beforehand, plops himself soundly onto Lance’s lap.</p>
<p>Ah. His favorite seat. b</p>
<p>Lance stutters, lets out an aborted “hey—!” and then turns an apologetic look to the <em>Beatles </em>guy.</p>
<p>“This, uh, is my boyfriend, Keith,” Lance says awkwardly, gesturing to the whole of his lap. Keith raises a single hand in greeting, uninterested.</p>
<p>“Hi.”</p>
<p>“Hi!” the guy says, startling Keith slightly with his energy. “Do you like <em>The Beatles</em>?”</p>
<p>Keith levels the guy with a firm, bored stare. “Who are <em>The Beatles</em>?”</p>
<p>Lance slaps a hand to his mouth. The guy gasps, inhaling such a large amount of air that Keith is <em>sure </em>he’s going to have hiccups later, and then raises a hand like he’s about to say something. Keith huffs. Boring. It’s time for Phase 2.</p>
<p>He situates himself in Lance’s lap <em>very </em>purposefully, positioning his ass <em>right </em>over the outline of Lance’s (giant, gorgeous, amazing) dick. Lance jerks a little but doesn’t do anything else, doesn’t so much as give Keith a look, so he probably thinks it was unintentional. Fine. Keith will be more <em>intentional. </em></p>
<p>As the guy starts talking about the <em>Beatles</em>— ”The <em>Beatles </em>were an English rock band formed in Liverpool in 1960. The group, whose best-known lineup comprised John Lennon, Paul McCartney, George Harrison, and Ringo Starr, are regarded as the most influential band of all time. They were integral to—,” Keith slowly shifts, pushing his ass further on Lance’s lap and ever so slightly grinding down, using his body to stimulate Lance in a way he knows he can’t ignore.</p>
<p>Lance <em>squeaks. </em>It’s loud enough that <em>Beatles </em>guy actually shuts up for a second.</p>
<p>Keith grins roguishly.</p>
<p>“S-Sorry, just, uh,” Lance stammers, clearly searching for an explanation, “I didn’t know they were called ‘the fab four!’ That’s wild! Hah!”</p>
<p>Keith really, <em>really </em>wants to collapse into laughter, but he schools his face into neutrality, not wanting to have this all come crashing down because he couldn’t hold it together. <em>Beatles </em>guy looks a little confused, but he takes the explanation in stride, reorienting his lecture into a history of lingo used to refer to the <em>Beatles. </em>It’s just as boring as the first, so Keith decides to up the ante; he keeps grinding onto Lance in slow, methodical movements, and then drapes his hands around Lance’s neck, stroking around the nape and dipping near his collarbones, touchy and close. It’s because he’s so close that he feels Lance swallow thickly, and it’s because he’s sitting on top of him that he feels him press his legs together hurriedly.</p>
<p>
  <em>Perfect. </em>
</p>
<p>“I’m, uh—can I cut you off, Kevin? Sorry,” Lance says in a rush, cheeks flushing rapidly. Kevin stops abruptly and blinks a lot, as if coming out of a daze. “I actually, uh, I have to, uh, go to the bathroom. So. I’ll see you some other time?”</p>
<p>Keith just <em>has </em>to laugh at Lance using the same lame excuse to get away from the conversation, but he hides it by pressing his face into Lance’s neck, which functions both as a cover for his laughter <em>and </em>as a handy method of breathing onto Lance’s throat, which Keith <em>knows </em>drives him crazy. It hits the spot; Lance gasps and then shivers, all the while awkwardly shooing the guy away, even as he makes no attempt to get up from the chair he’s seated in.</p>
<p><em>Beatles </em>guy, looking a bit miffed, finally leaves, and Lance is instantly pushing at Keith, trying to get him off of his lap.</p>
<p>“You’re <em>sabotaging me</em>,” he hisses as he does, elbowing Keith rather painfully in the side. “Get off, get off!”</p>
<p>“But I wasn’t—”</p>
<p>Keith ends up on the floor, looking like an angry cat. Lance stands above him, breathing heavily and, Keith notes with glee, hastily pulling his shirt further down, most definitely attempting to cover a certain something that’s popping up right now. It’s that knowledge that keeps Keith from raging at Lance—well, that and the fact that Keith hadn’t given him much of a choice other than pushing him off, so he can’t really blame him.</p>
<p>“You,” Lance declares, pointing at Keith as he stands and dusts himself off, “are a fiend. I can’t—I have more people I need to talk to!”</p>
<p>“Do you <em>actually, </em>though?” Keith asks shortly, folding his arms. “I feel like you’re making this responsibility up in your head.”</p>
<p>“I—No, I’m not!” Well, that was <em>thoroughly </em>unconvincing. “I just—I <em>have </em>to, I feel like my cousin’ll be mad if I don’t, so that’s what I’m trying to do. And you’re not <em>helping.</em>”</p>
<p>“Lance…” Keith lets the tiniest bit of a whine enter his voice as he steps closer to Lance, tugging him forward by the collar of his shirt. Lance’s eyes go all big and he breathes a shaky breath. “C’mon, I don’t want to be here anymore, there are <em>so </em>many other things we could be—“</p>
<p>“Nope!” Lance wrenches himself away and spins around, covering his ears. Keith blinks in surprise. “Nope, nope, I can’t hear you. I’m not listening. I’m gonna go over there and get a drink, now, Keith, so, just—bye! See you!”</p>
<p>And he dashes away, leaving Keith feeling like the damn <em>Beatles </em>guy.</p>
<p>Well. Phase 3 it is, then.</p><hr/>
<p>This time, Keith doesn’t wait against walls that he has to push himself off of after standing there for the better half of fifteen minutes. He’s tired of waiting. This time, Keith is hunting his boyfriend down, staying in the shadows of wherever Lance goes, looking out for a free moment and a dark corner—the only two things he needs to pull this off.</p>
<p>Because Phase 3? Phase 3 should be a K.O. If Keith has any knowledge of Lance McClain, this will be a complete knockout. He’s certain of it.</p>
<p>Like, 93% certain. 95% after he seems him adjust his shirt and jeans <em>again</em>, after he’d just adjusted them a few minutes ago. That definitely means something.</p>
<p>Right now, Lance is making his way across the makeshift dance floor, which is still somehow playing Halsey music, just to piss Keith off. No matter, though; Keith’s secured a tiny dark corner, and fortunately for him, Lance seems to be heading <em>directly </em>that way.</p>
<p>Keith unbuttons the top button of his shirt. Showtime.</p>
<p>“Hey, Lance,” Keith says, snagging Lance’s arm and pulling him into the aforementioned corner, dark and private. He slides his other hand up to Lance’s neck. “How are you?”</p>
<p>“<em>Keith</em>.” Lance’s tone sounds anguished, pleading—like he’s already half gone. Keith smirks a little and presses himself closer to Lance, shivering when he feels the hard length against his thigh.</p>
<p>“I didn’t have to do that much,” Keith says, and leans forward, hiding in Lance’s neck. He presses a kiss onto it, savoring the hot, salty taste. Lance squirms.</p>
<p>“Of course you didn’t,” he says, voice hoarse. “You’re <em>you</em>, you never have to—<em>ah—!” </em></p>
<p>Lance slaps a hand against his mouth to hide the noise he’s making as Keith licks and nips at his neck, teethes at his earlobe, and snakes hand down to press his palm against his cock, tracing the outline of it with his thumb.</p>
<p>“I want you,” Keith murmurs, lips still pressed against Lance’s neck. Lance gives a sharp intake of breath. “Really badly. I want to go home, I want you to bend me over the kitchen counter, spread wide for you, and I want you to fuck me as hard and as deep as you possibly can—”</p>
<p><em>“Fuck</em>!”</p>
<p>With a defeated groan, Lance yanks himself away from Keith and stomps the opposite direction. Keith, blinking and confused, pulls his shirt further down and curiously follows, unsure whether to be offended or not.</p>
<p>Well, that question is answered the moment Lance comes back clutching both their coats, his jaw set. He thrusts Keith’s at him, and he takes it, bewildered.</p>
<p>“You better hold good on that promise,” Lance hisses, and then he pulls Keith close and kisses him hard and dirty. Realizing he’s won, Keith returns the kiss with delighted gusto, swirling his tongue around Lance’s and even licking at his lips after he pulls away.</p>
<p>“I plan to,” Keith says loftily, unable to wipe the victorious smile from his face. He starts walking toward the door, then, tugging Lance with him by the sleeve. “Let’s go, loverboy. We have better things to be doing.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0030"><h2>30. peaceful</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>lance and keith go to sleep. that's all.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lance flips off the light, throwing their entire room into cool darkness and dappled moonlight, with only the lit screen of Keith’s phone providing any artificial light. Keith’s reading about the so-called most recent sighting of Mothman on Reddit, but he’s skeptical, because this person seems to be changing Mothman’s abilities with each description, which is an obvious red flag. As Lance slides into bed next to him, Keith hears him chuckle.</p>
<p>“What?” Keith asks drowsily, turning his phone off and rolling over to face his boyfriend. Lance gives him a dimpled smile, which melts Keith’s heart like it always does.</p>
<p>“Nothing. Just your Mothman obsession,” Lance says fondly, and reaches forward to tuck a strand of hair behind Keith’s ear.</p>
<p>Keith rolls his eyes. “It’s not an <em>obsession</em>, I just need to keep tabs. In case there’s a good lead.”</p>
<p>“’Course, babe, whatever you say.” Lance settles on the bed, keeping himself oriented towards Keith. “It’s time for bed, though. No more Mothman.”</p>
<p>Pouting a little for show, Keith nonetheless consents and plugs his phone in, placing it face-down on the side table before turning back to face Lance.</p>
<p>Lance, who’s laying there just smiling at him, freckled and beautiful and lit by the moon. <em>Perfect. </em></p>
<p>“What are you staring at?” Keith’s asks, even as his cheeks heat up with feeling. Lance gives a light, musical laugh.</p>
<p>“Nothin’. Just you. Happy to have you here,” Lance says, and scoots closer to Keith, pressing their bodies together in a half-hug that Keith reciprocates while rolling his eyes indulgently.</p>
<p>“Happy to be here, idiot,” Keith returns once they’ve parted, matching Lance’s calm, utterly enamored smile. “Very happy.”</p>
<p>They stay like that for a minute, just looking each other and feeling the comfort of the other’s presence, the warmth of the bed covers, the calm of the night where they can hear cicadas chirping outside. Wonderful, blissful peace. Their tired bodies ache for rest.</p>
<p>“C’mon, turn around,” Lance instructs quietly after a moment, twirling his finger to accentuate his words. Keith huffs out a chuckle and does just that, shifting back and fitting himself into the curve of Lance’s body with practiced ease. Lance’s hands fall over him comfortably, and he twines a leg with Keith’s, nestling his face in the crook of Keith’s shoulder and breathing deeply. “<em>Te amo, cariño</em>.”</p>
<p>“愛してる、バーカ,” Keith returns, half-jokingly going along with Lance’s switch in language. Lance seems delighted, though; he always seems happy to hear speak Japanese, which gives Keith a warm glow for the next few hours every time. He smiles. “Go to sleep, dork.”</p>
<p>Lance snuggles in even more, as close as he can get, and sighs happily. “I love you, Keith.”</p>
<p>Keith’s most certainly blushing now. “I love you too, Lance.”</p>
<p>They fall asleep like that, contented and wrapped in each other’s arms.</p>
<p>Keith never thought he’d know true peace in his lifetime. But Lance McClain, as in so many other things and in so many other ways, managed to prove that wrong.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>goodnight 💤</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0031"><h2>31. midnight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>new years eve.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Keith giggles as Lance presses him playfully up against the wall, champagne and chocolate on his breath.</p>
<p>“Hey, good lookin’,” Lance says, waggling his eyebrows. Keith snorts and laughs harder, flinging his arms loosely around Lance’s neck and pulling himself closer. Lance continues, “Come here often?”</p>
<p>“My boyfriend dragged me here,” Keith plays along, standing on his tiptoes so he can fully look at Lance as he leans closer. “He’s hot, though, so I let him.“</p>
<p>Lance’s eyes light up, his grin stretching wide, and he settles his hands on Keith’s hips only a little suggestively, enveloping Keith in the scent of pine and sweets, of <em>Lance. </em>Perfect.</p>
<p>“This guy sounds pretty great,” he says cheekily, pressing into Keith and ducking down to give him a chaste kiss on the neck. “You’re better, though.”</p>
<p>“’Course I am,” Keith returns with a voice laced with laughter, and he tugs Lance in, kissing him clumsily in between bouts of bubbling giggles and whispered endearments.</p>
<p>It’s New Year’s Eve, and Keith’s been over at Shiro’s since 6pm, along with everybody else, for a stereotypical New Year’s party. At least it was only close friends, but Keith’s still not much for parties—that is, until Adam got out the fancy champagne and they started toasting every hour, then every half hour, then whenever they felt like it. Somehow, since then, the party hasn’t been that bad.</p>
<p>Oh, also, Lance has been rather shamelessly flirting with him for the better half of two hours now, and there is nothing Keith adores more than being lavished with attention by Lance McClain, even amidst boos and “get a room!” proclamations from everyone else. They’re both tipsy and in love; the others are just going to have to deal with it.</p>
<p>“Mmm, wanna find a room, hot stuff?” Lance murmurs against Keith’s neck, nipping at his ear. Keith giggles—god, is that all he can do when he’s drunk? <em>Giggle</em>? —and petulantly pushes his handsy boyfriend away, shaking his head.</p>
<p>“We should stay out here till 12,” he says, trying his best to ignore Lance’s inviting pout and the way he can’t seem to keep his hands off of Keith, keeping him close by the hips, squeezing his side, stroking his neck. It definitely makes Keith <em>want </em>to ditch the party and go hide out in the nearest room, but something about ditching the party at its most important moment to go fuck in whatever guest room Shiro’s got set up seems a <em>little </em>wrong to Keith.</p>
<p>Well, mostly. If Lance keeps groping him like this, though, Keith knows his resolve is going to wane very thin <em>very </em>fast.</p>
<p>“You’re no fun,” Lance grumbles, reaching around and pinching Keith’s ass. Keith yelps and bats Lance’s hand away, flushing further, and tries not to be too dazzled by the cute smile and chuckle he gets in response.</p>
<p>“Off limits,” he chides playfully. Lance rolls his eyes, but before he can get any proper words out, they hear a scream of, “Guys! It’s almost twelve! Come, come!” from behind them, and turn just in time to see Romelle skidding in from the other room, expression elated.</p>
<p>Allura trails behind more slowly, looking after her girlfriend fondly. “First time celebrating New Year’s,” she says by way of explanation, catching Romelle’s hand in hers and pressing a kiss to her cheek. “She’s excited.”</p>
<p>“Ooooh, <em>finally</em>!” Lance cheers, spinning behind Keith and pushing him insistently back out into the center of the room, away from their tiny corner. Keith tries to protest, but they go unheard, and he finds himself right where Lance wanted him, nonetheless. It’s weird how often that seems to happen.</p>
<p>“T-minus ten seconds, people! Look alive!” Shiro calls enthusiastically, definitely more drunk than the rest of them.</p>
<p>“I don’t think you know what that means,” Keith shouts back with a laugh, and gets a not-at-all embarrassed shrug in response. A look at the clock confirms, however, that there’s now about seven seconds left till the stroke of midnight—something that Keith could’ve figured out without the clock, of course, given Lance is excitedly bouncing up and down next to him, arm slung around his shoulder and jostling him against his will.</p>
<p>“<em>Countdown!”</em> Lance screams, and the rest of the house cheers, and then all Keith can hear is a chorus of voices shouting numbers—one of them definitely his, though he can’t remember making the conscious decision to join in.</p>
<p>All he’s really feeling right now is warm and happy—his lovely, amazing, hot boyfriend pressed up against him, looking for all the world like he’s having the time of his life, and surrounded by his friends and family just having <em>fun</em>, welcoming the new year, feeling good about the future.</p>
<p>It’s all Keith could ask for. Maybe that’s why he’s joined the countdown for the first time since his dad died.</p>
<p>“Two, <em>one—!</em>”</p>
<p>The ball drops, and the room erupts into cheers. Lance whoops once and then yanks Keith into him and presses their lips together, tonguing his mouth open and kissing him with open enthusiasm and relish. Keith embarrassingly laughs into Lance’s mouth and returns the kiss with pleasure, wrapping his arms around Lance and pulling up to meet him.</p>
<p>When they part, both their lips are red and confetti pops are going off all around them. Lance and Keith just stare at each other, grins of unbridled happiness lighting up their flushed, adoring faces.</p>
<p>“Happy new year, Keithers,” Lance says, touching their noses together.</p>
<p>“Happy new year,” Keith whispers back, not really believing that he’s allowed to be this happy but loving it all the same.</p>
<p>“Still open to finding a room?” Lance crowds into Keith, kissing along his neck and up to his cheeks, tiny little fluttering presses of the lips that have Keith shivering for more.</p>
<p>“<em>Definitely</em>. Let’s go, lover boy.”</p>
<p>With a delighted cheer, Lance lets Keith grab him by the hand and haul him into the dark hallway, mock-saluting his friends as they pass and throwing an apologetic look to Shiro. Keith kicks open the door to the dark room, pulls Lance inside, and slams it shut, pushing Lance onto the bed as he does. Lance laughs as Keith climbs on top of him, warm and willing and <em>so </em>happy to be right where he is.</p>
<p>What a start to the new year.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>last one!! thank you all so much for reading as i did these, they were a blast. i hope to be uploading full fanfic in the coming months as well, and i'm also going to be in a klance zine (equinox ascending), so u can see my links below if u wanna keep track of that and my other work. </p>
<p>happy 2021, everyone! here's to another year of klance :-)</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i also post these to tumblr! </p>
<p>☆ <a href="https://klancey.tumblr.com/">klance blog</a><br/>☆ <a href="https://catnpc.tumblr.com/">main blog</a><br/>☆ please consider <a href="https://ko-fi.com/renyoi">buying me a coffee</a> to support my work this december! thank you!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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